


Chisa na Ou no Tanetsukegokko (Little King Breeding Game)

by Tas_tan



Category: Original Work
Genre: /ss/, Bukkake, Cum Inflation, Deepthroat, F/M, Facial, Harem, Incest, MILF, Milking, Nakadashi, Stomach Deformation, Throatpie, Vaginal, Vomit, dense semen consistency, facefuck, musk, onee/shota
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23868505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tas_tan/pseuds/Tas_tan
Summary: The Emperor of hentai/doujinshi fantasy land is quietly assassinated by his wife of the past 6 years. She does this not to become queen herself, but for the sole purpose of crowning her grossly-underage son emperor and legitimising her obscene sexual relationship with him under the pretence of stabilising the empire. Before this can happen, rulers from lands closest to the empire impose that a wife for the child be selected from a much larger group of adult women willing to marry a 5 year old: all of whom just so happen to be just as depraved and disturbed as his mother.
Relationships: A really little kid/Older Female Royalty
Comments: 19
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

At the tender age of 5 and ¾, Malys had come to terms with the importance of education amongst royals. Initially as averse to intensive learning as could be expected of a child without a fully developed capacity for it, the passing of his father and the fallout induced from it injected enough raw ‘change’ into his life for him to begin reassessing the nature of his opinions.

Emperors needed to be educated. Of the memories that he maintained of his father, most concerned his using his mind to solve problems in ways that others couldn’t. The exact means with which he solved these problems were no less mystifying to him than they had been whilst observing his work from atop his lap, but if nothing else, Malys understood that the things his father knew were what facilitated his successes.

Now emperor himself, adaptation was mandatory. Upon being told by his mother and all those around him that he was now what his father had been, Malys committed himself to becoming as wise and inventive a man as the late emperor. If naïve in its construction and muted in its eventual outcome—as could be expected of a child without a complete picture of the cruelty of reality—the conviction held within his heart as he pledged this to himself was in every way befitting of an ‘emperor’.

In the months that followed his father’s death, this new conviction did not waver. No matter how sunny or warm the day presented to him as he awoke, he began each day by paying the man responsible for his education a lengthy visit. After dressing and eating alongside his mother, he obediently departed from their bedroom to rendezvous with the man at the castle’s archives.

Views on the actions that he took were decidedly mixed. Whereas his mother and those that supported them were content with his decision to distract himself with improvement—his mother less so than the others—the guards responsible for escorting him to and from these visits sometimes advocated against his walking to meet one of his subjects as emperor.

Regardless of the opinion Malys was met with, his motivation went unchanged. Those around him had not inherited his father’s responsibilities; expecting them to understand how to go about fulfilling them was silly even from his perspective.

Bought from Malys’ dedication were many a morning spent learning what most children were likely to have deemed boring. Day by day, Malys worked to understand the subjects presented to him as best he could, and redoubled his efforts each time he failed. Immune to his teacher’s softness and senselessly driven towards success, the progress that he made in these quiet months was tantamount to a year’s worth of formal instruction…

For a 5 year old, of course.

For a time, it seemed as though a form of information he could not grind a childish, largely flawed understanding of into his head did not exist.

Then came the first day of summer: the day from which the rest of his life was to be enacted.

Warmed by morning light fed through the largest study room within the archive, Malys’ teacher presented him with a subject so foreign that Malys requested that he repeat almost every utterance that he produced.

This subject was none other than the importance of heirs amongst royalty, and the very ‘unique’ situation imposed upon him by his father’s death.

“...I will repeat myself once more, your highness.” standing adjacent to the desk at which his pupil sat, Baldus again pointed a withered finger at the portraits strewn out across its face. “It has been decided by the courts that your wife is to be one of these three women. In order, they are Pramani Prierria—First Princess of Rasshri, Bianca Tress—Queen of Fia, and Mignon Sigrid—First Princess of Lume.”

“You will be meeting Pramani later today, but within the next few years, you must select one of these women as your legal wife and produce with her an heir. You are within your rights to have all of them in some capacity, but only one of them can fulfill this particular purpose.” he explained. “Am I understood?”

Each time one of Baldus’ fingers hovered over one of the portraits ahead of him, Malys’ eyes focused on its content for a few seconds before moving on to the next. Of the three, the smile that Pramani projected was the warmest. Her golden eyes projected a girlish youthfulness that his eyes appreciated, but his mind failed to make sense of exactly why. Bianca projected a similar warmth by way of her maturity. Though her eyes were closed, looking at her reminded him of his mother (if only slightly). Mignon—by far the most foreign of the three—best fit his definition of a princess. Vastly shorter than her peers and dressed far less traditionally, she seemed to him as a girl to look up to (as opposed to an adult to defer to).

Being able to appreciate the women for their features did not make his teacher’s instruction any less difficult to understand. The moment he finished taking in Mignon’s appearance, he reproduced an action of minutes past and tipped his skull backwards to stare up at his teacher.

“I’m confused.” he began, features tightened by distress.

“You often are, your highness.” replied Baldus. “Let’s begin with the root of your confusion, then. What is it about what I am presenting that you do not understand?”

Prompted, the inconsistency responsible for Malys’ confusion very nearly exploded out of his mouth. Recognizing its oddity, he held it on the tip of his tongue for a moment prior to stating it much more quietly than initially intended.

“Will I not be marrying Mother and producing an heir with her? Must I do the same with these ladies, or is it something different?”

Exhaling, Baldus raised his pointing hand up to an affectionate tousling of the auburn mop atop his student’s head.

“Ultimately, the choice that you make is unimportant. Should you prefer Relia to the other three, you’re within your rights to select her as I’m sure she believes you will.” he replied.

“Then why—”

“But it must be **your** choice, Malys. You are a truly kind boy, and I worry that this kindness will lead to your downfall. As emperor, you must not allow anyone to dictate your choice of partner to you. No one, not even your mother, should be able to deny you this right—that is why all of this has been arranged.” now speaking more gravely, Baldus framed this utterance such that it would grab and hold Malys’ attention until it was completed.

“If the rest of the process is too difficult for you to understand at the moment, simply focus on that. We shall discuss the rest in the months to come.”

Only slightly less confused for his instructor’s efforts, Malys nodded, and did his best to press back the concern that had risen across his face.

Seeing this, Baldus loosened as well.

  
“It is likely this process will be quite trying for you, so do not be afraid to prepare questions for me if you need help. I have already given you all I can in the way of magic that might assist you, but that does not mean we cannot discuss alternatives together as we always do.” he continued. “Am I understood?”

Reassured, Malys began nodding his head. Partway through the gesture, his lips parted to assent to his instructor’s suggestion as any dutiful student would.

Then came a knocking at the door to the archive chamber. Light yet audible, the noise that it produced pulled Malys’ words back inside his throat and sent his instructor’s attention towards the other side of the room.

The air had changed; the words of a child could no longer persist in it.

Undaunted, Baldus broke into a stride towards the noise’s source.

“I’ll be just a moment, Malys. Remain there until I call for you.” throwing his voice behind him, Baldus did not stop to confirm that he had been heard. Then and there, it was far more important that he ascertain the identity of their visitor and their intent.

Opposite the chamber door, he wrenched its face inward with a vehemence ill-fitting for an elderly sage. Awaiting him behind it was a smiling Pramani Prierria accompanied by a pair of her personal guards.

Relaxed in both visage and posture, the ‘air’ given off by her presence was one without the cordial austerity to be expected of female royalty. Were it not for the attire she had dressed herself in and the quality of her appearance, one could very well have mistaken her for an especially endearing handmaiden.

But Baldus was not anyone. Beneath the peach-blended white of her face’s skin and the smile stapled to it was something else. Formless and bleak, its writhing bade him to cease observing it lest he lose his life in the process.

Nevertheless, he continued to stare. Trapped in a series of seconds made into a veritable eternity, he bored his eyes into what they had captured in search of its nature until reality demanded that he do otherwise.

Pramani had begun to speak.

“Good afternoon, Magister Baldus! It’s been a while since the coronation, hasn’t it?” Pramani began, warmly. “I realize I’m a bit ahead of schedule, but I’m here for his highness. It won’t hurt his studies if he and I meet ahead of schedule, will it?”

No reasonable rebuttal existed to the princess’ request. His position as Malys’ instructor was meaningless in the face of one of the women selected to vie for the boy’s affections; the countries backing them had ensured this.

Still, he hesitated. What had he seen in the women that had jarred him so? Why was it now so much harder to see than it had been before?

These questions held his tongue to the floor of his mouth long enough for Pramani to see about lifting it herself.

“Magister Baldus?” she began, voice innocent yet expectant. “Is everything alright?”

Robbed of any further time with which to think, Baldus cleared his throat and stepped aside.

“…It is not an issue at all, princess. We’ll simply finish this lesson another time.” he affirmed. Now doing his utmost to project certainty, Baldus turned his head back towards the archive to throw his voice back into it. “Your highness, it’s as I said! You’ll be departing with the princess now, so feel free to leave your things at your desk!”

At the sound of his instructor’s voice, Malys pushed out of his desk and hopped to his feet without a care in the world. Pattering straight back towards the entrance as requested, his progression was defined by a happily careless consistency; a far cry from the concerned stride Baldus had produced.

Unlike his instructor, laying eyes on Pramani did not instill fear into him, nor did the quality of the air bother him any. Much like any other sheltered child presented with something familiar, he approached the older woman’s frame without a care in the world.

Throughout, he could think of nothing but the talent of the artists responsible for capturing her presence. Standing several feet above him was a differently-dressed iteration of the same female portrait he had been presented with moments prior. The darkly-toned platinum blonde hair that extended to her mid back and crescented across her face , the soft crimson of her irises, the warmth-kissed peach complexion of her skin; all of her most prominent features were just as (if not more so) vivid as they had been in her depiction.

Now, however, the realities of her figure were far more apparent. Though she stood at parity with his instructor (an impressive 5 feet and 8 inches off of the ground), fractions of her frame extended further forward and outwards than his ever could. Monstrous breasts reminiscent of those owned by his mother sloped down and away from her chest to a distance that made laying eyes on her face much more difficult. More so lengthy than they were taught and round, both of the hefty sacs sat enveloped underneath a pitch black and loosely situated neck-sweater. Allowed to engorge the fabric as a pair of triple-stuffed and obscenely perky sand-bags, their lack of ‘softening’ by the excess fabric of a shawl or gown granted them an ‘appearance’ that was impossible to ignore.

The closer that Malys came to her was the larger that her breasts began to seem. Despite this, they did not become any more (or less) significant as eyesores for their growth. As dictated by proximity and his line of sight, Pramani’s lower half became just as ‘eye-catching’ once his frame arrived at a distance that could take in their features.

Similarly devoid of the regal excesses of royalty, the princess’ lower body was gloved only by the flexibly fashioned ‘second-skins’ that Malys recalled young adults as favoring. As modern clothing was often one of too restrictive or loose, clothiers developed a compromise in the form of torso and lower body ‘sleeves’ usable whilst exerting oneself or relaxing. Whilst visibly more expensive and far less risqué than those worn by lesser nobles, Malys recognized Pramani as making use of one of these herself.

  
The key—to his eyes, anyway—was its gloving of her hipline. Precisely where the length of her sweater ended, the pants-sleeve fabric extended to match the fat-padded, perfectly-excessive bow curve of her hips, and at the same time suckled to the lower fringes of her abdominals and the beginnings of her crotch. Giving nothing away as to her femininity, the fabric instead allowed for the width and shape of her lower body to be conveyed without the blatancy presumed part and parcel to doing so. Thighs thicker than Malys’ torso and perhaps just as soft as her breasts were gloved by it alongside her hips, as were the lengthy, proportionately feminine calves beneath them. If not for the heeled footwear that they bled into from their ankles, Malys could’ve imagined the fabric as gloving her feet as well.

Overall, the fact that Pramani was not dressed as a princess ought to be was irrelevant. A look at her as she was presently inspired the same alluring brilliance befitting a princess—just not to starry-eyed five year olds subjected to said brilliance on a daily basis.

Processing her appearance within seconds of exposure to her, Malys indulged the most inappropriate of his learnt habits as a prince and dipped his head slightly just as soon as they made eye contact.

“Hello, princess. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting—it’s very nice to meet you.” he began, voice neither excessive enthusiastic or reserved. “I don’t know where we’re supposed to be goin’, but if we have to get going, you can lead the way.”

At last presented with what she wanted, Pramani reached down with her right hand to gently slip the dollish width of Malys’ into her own. This done, she shook her head and smiled.

“I’m the one who should apologize, your highness. We’ve met several times before, but you were much too young to remember. I should have been keeping in touch properly—that will change from now on.” replied Pramani. “We’re not going very far, so I’ll do just that. We can catch up when we arrive.”

Without any sort of force, Pramani naturally pulled Malys to her side and turned alongside him to depart from the archive.

She was not yet finished speaking to his instructor, however.

“Thank you for your time, Magister Baldus.” curling her skull backwards, she turned the smile drawn across her lips back towards the older man with an entirely different intent for its use. “I hope you’ll continue with your hard work looking after his highness. From what I hear, you’re truly irreplaceable.”

Denying the man both context and an opportunity to respond to her thanks, she continued on her way without another word.

Further pleasantries were meaningless. It was her hand that Malys was holding now; Baldus Caro no longer needed to exist.

-

**MALYS & PRAMANI**

The initial minutes of Pramani’s and Malys’ progression through the castle’s main corridors were minutes spent in relative silence. Save the sounds of their mutual footsteps and the rhythmic clinking of the armor worn by Pramani’s guards, the only proof that the two of them were actually present persisted in the form of others aversion to them. Many individuals loosely intimate with the prince-turned-emperor were passed as they went, but not one of them dared to speak out and disturb the quiet that surrounded them.

Though motivated more so by fear than a lack of interest, their refusal to speak out suited Pramani perfectly fine.

After all, her silence was purposeful. Since taking Malys’ hand and leading him away from the castle’s archives, stifling herself had become her foremost priority. The tiny softness of the hand that she had clasped and the stunning warmth that bled from its flesh were everything that she had dreamt of and more. Further, the boy to which they belonged was precisely as her memories had depicted—albeit made a bit larger by the passage of a pair of years. Sweet, simple, and no less gifted for it, her fleeting interactions with him thus far were among the most satisfying that she could recall.

More than anything, she wished for all of their interactions to make her feel this way. Were she to begin speaking without properly framing the feelings that had welled up within her stomach, scaring her miniature muse would remain just as likely an outcome as becoming closer to him.

Bridled by this fear, Pramani instead opted to speak to herself in preparation for another conversation with her future husband.

_“You’ve plenty of time to work with, Pramani. You’re starting from the same point that everyone else is, and you won’t have to worry about being interrupted, either.”_ she thought to herself. _“What’s important is that he likes you. Or rather, that he likes you more than anyone else. If accomplishing that requires making him feel comfortable first, that’s what you should do.”_

_“It’s your only option. Like it or not…”_

Preoccupied with her own feelings, Pramani did not think too deeply on the reason for Malys’ silence. Presuming it to be a consequent of discomfort, she abruptly found her train of thought interrupted by speech from the boy.

Evidently, all of his time in silence had been spent on introspection.

“…You were at my father’s funeral last year, weren’t you?” Malys began, head tilting upward to point his features at Pramani. “I couldn’t really remember at first, but you were with mother and those other ladies, right?”

With a mere sentence, the seal that Pramani had placed on her lips melted into nothingness. She had been remembered; not by another monster, but by a boy she had always hoped to be remembered by.

“I’m surprised that you remembered, your highness. You were very sad that day; I didn’t think you’d recall anything other than being with your mother.” she replied, gaze slanting down to meet the features directed up at her. “The emperor had always been very kind to my country and our people. He and my father would meet to discuss different things from time to time, and I’d always make a fuss if I didn’t get to come along and visit as well.”

“I was never treated like a nuisance while I was here, and it’s your father I have to thank for that. If I didn’t pay my respects at his funeral, I’d never have forgiven myself.” she explained.

To Malys, all of this information was ‘news’. Unaware of his father’s interactions with individuals that were not old men, he attentively absorbed Pramani’s response as though she were recounting a far livelier tale.

By the end of her explanation, his grasp on her hand had become tighter. Blissfully unaware of this fact, he intentionally smiled up at the woman in an effort to stifle that sadness that had come over.

“Well, I’m not father, but I can at least thank you on his behalf. He’d be very happy t’ know that you thought so well of him n’stuff, so thank you for being there.” he replied. “I think he’d be happy to know that you’re here now, too. Regardless of the reason why, you being here will at least let me try to look after you th’ way he did.”

A minute of conversation was all that it took for Pramani’s careful constructions to fall apart. Hearing Malys’ voice and entertaining the subjects that he spoke on shifted the ‘focus’ of her thoughts off of her first impression and onto the feelings that assaulted her when first she laid eyes on the boy:

Her need for his blood.

Stopping her progression dead in its tracks, she flicked her gaze from Malys’ face up to the helmet of the primary guard for their procession.

“This should be far enough—both of you may leave now.” she began, softly.

Quick to recall his place, the primary guard spoke up in protest.

“B-But princess, this area houses the residential chambers. Are we not returning to your bed— ”

“No, we’re not.” responding flatly, Pramani solidified her rebuttal with a short glance down at Malys. “The prince is tired from his studies today. There shouldn’t be any issues if he and I stop so that he can rest, right?”

Yet again, Pramani’s primary guard was denied recourse. Regularly subverted by the nature of the young woman he was to protect, he met her suggestion with stillness and silence.

One way or another, she’d always have her way.

“Oh, I thought so as well.” Pramani replied. “I think we’ll be resting for quite a while, so please try to keep your interruptions to a minimum. I’ll of course know if this ends up not being the case, so I hope that you’ll take this request as seriously as you would from someone who is not a princess.”

“Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

Pramani did not care to see or hear how the guard responded to her request. Instead pushing her way through the chamber door she had selected, she disregarded his existence and those of all of his peers with an air that might’ve suggested a sort of air-headed sweetness.

Once the chamber door was closed behind her, she began walking again. Drawing Malys as far into the bedroom as she could, a revolt from her innards cut her progression short less than halfway through its intended length. 

Here, she released Malys’ hand and turned on her heels. Ahead of him, she bent her knees down into contact with the ground to level her features with his own.

At this, Malys finally happened upon an opportunity to question what was happening around him.

“Uh…”

“Is everything alright, princess?” Malys began, voice more so confused than concerned. 

“Mhm. Why do you ask, your highness?”

“It just seems like you’re in a…”

If only slightly, Malys took too long to speak. As his sentence trailed towards completion, Pramani purposed her position on her knees to lean inwards. Smothering her breasts into a torso-warming compression against his front, she followed up the motion with a sharp stab of her lips in towards his own.

Though far from unfamiliar with the taste of a woman’s mouth, the ‘brand’ of hungry intent that Pramani was displaying differed from what Malys was used to. Rather than waiting for him to meet her kiss, Pramani intentionally squeezed her tongue into his mouth, and soon afterwards began teasing the flesh of his own. As well, she did not wait for him to reciprocate her approach. Whilst stirring her tongue flesh around the confines of his mouth, she raised her arms into an affectionate embrace of his upper back that further mushed his chest up against the clothed fat of her breasts.

It was almost as though her aim was not to interact with him, but to utterly consume him.

Before his thoughts on the subject could generate further discomfort for his core, Pramani’s kiss came to an end. Indifferent to the volume of saliva that had leaked out of her mouth throughout her sampling of his throat, she retracted her skull to a safe distance opposite his own, and in the process erected several thick bridges of spittle between the flesh of their lips.

Equally indifferent (albeit for a different reason), Malys spoke out within seconds of gulping down the saliva welled at the back of his throat.

“I-It seems…as if…” panting briefly, a semblance of his usual tone returned to him partway through his utterance. “Y-You’re hurrying. Is it because of the marriage thing you’re b-being asked to do? ‘cause y-you don’t gotta—”

* **SCHLLLP** ♥*

In spite of making his best attempt at speaking for himself, Pramani did not appear interested in facilitating it. Mere words into his response, the adult woman began noisily slurping the threads of saliva connecting their mouths together into her mouth one at a time. Going so far as to sponge their remainders off of the edges of his mouth after consuming the strands themselves, variations on the initial slurping noise she produced sounded out one after another until her ‘work’ was complete.

Once finished, she played the fool. Smiling warmly as though she hadn’t interrupted at all, she watched and waited for him to finish the sentence he had started as though her actions hadn’t constituted something worth observing.

Being himself, Malys believed her display without a thought to the contrary.

“You don’t have to participate in this thing just ‘cause your family says so. I’m the one who has t’make a choice, so if you don’t really wanna, I could— ”

“But I want to.” still smiling, Pramani responded without stress or hesitation. “To place someone so young in a position like this is unfair. Your father would _never_ have wanted you to struggle with such choices so early on in life, so I’m going to make sure that you won’t.”

“So long as you’ll have me, I’ll make certain that you don’t have to think about any part of this **worthless process** ever again.” she affirmed.

Contained in this utterance was a fraction of something else—something entirely foreign to the ‘Pramani’ that Malys had become familiar with. Discerning its identity was a talent that he did not yet possess, but for a time, he felt it…

Soon enough, however, he felt something else. After Pramani finished speaking, her left arm dropped away from his back and up into an affectionate clasping of his middle thigh. Following contact, it snaked upwards by a handful of inches until the tips of her fingers were free to curl underneath the waistline of the distinctly ‘boy-cut’ shorts at his crotch.

Within seconds of their placement, the sensation of fabric gripping his crotch was replaced by the smooth, invasive warmth of Pramani’s palm at his crotch. Firmly fixed at the root of his growing erection, all further attempts that the youth made at thinking clearly were replaced by thoughts concerning the scents of sweat and femininity that bled from her frame.

Suddenly, these things had become more visceral to him than the reds of Pramani’s eyes.

Knowing full well what she had induced, Pramani continued to press Malys in search of his breaking point. Further imposing the weight of her breasts against his chest, she gently forced his frame down onto the floor space behind him. Clutching his back with her right hand all the while, she ensured that his impression against it was as harmless on his miniature frame as possible.

Comically, she dropped the full weight of her sweat-glazed bust against his thighs straight after the fact. Sliding down to a position that set her lips directly above the leaking nose of his glans, she subsequently dumped the sweaty mass of her breasts down against his thighs to effectively pin his frame against the ground.

Briefly, Pramani’s eyes refused to budge from a dead stare at the vascular stalk of flesh that had sprouted from Malys’ crotch. Her interest in it was obvious, but this did not stop her from prioritizing the explanation of her sudden assault over drooling over it.

If Malys was to be her husband, there would be plenty of time for this ‘drooling’ later on.

“Kind as you are, I do not expect for you to accept me unconditionally.” said Pramani. “I will show you the comforts and devotions I can provide, and you can make your choice when this process comes to an end. You needn’t worry about what to expect, either…”

**“I’m certain that I am at least as good if not better than your mother.”**

With this, Pramani dove. Eyes upturned to stare intently at the child laid out ahead of her, she plunged her skull down through what was to be a straight-on bisection of her lips with his cock. Lips parting just short of a precum-riddled kiss with the nose of his length, her continued descent saw the beginnings of his shaft smoothly squeezed between the modest pillows into the drool-laden sauna set behind them.

Thus far too overwhelmed to have an effect on proceedings, the envelopment of his cock into Pramani’s mouth fished a groan of pleasure from Malys’ throat. Behind it, he sat upright slightly in hopes of reaching a hand out to stifle her motions.

Sitting up was as far as he got into this plan. Upon directing his line of sight towards Pramani’s skull, her downward drive along his member continued. As soon as she felt the mixed flavors of sweat and semen pasted to the underside of his length set against her tongue, she cleanly spiked her lips the rest of the way down his erection in a single, * **GLRP** ♥*-inducing motion. Monstrous and effortless, her visage did not so much as flinch as the meat of his cock was plugged across her throat and into her esophagus. When finally her cock-spread pillows kissed the exterior of his crotch, her features conveyed little more than affection and expectance—precisely what a more ‘capable’ man, or a man older than 5 fucking years old nigga there’s nothing he can do here he’s fucked bro, might’ve beamed down at her.

Malys would never know it, but the efficiency and composure that Pramani projected was not as dominant within her as it was without. In engulfing the 10 inch cudgel of unwashed cock at Malys’ crotch, Pramani had denied herself the ability to adore his cock as her heart desired. Its glazing with precum aside, the nose of his shaft was very lightly flecked with an off-white filth paste composed of the mixed semen and sexual fluids of a sexual encounter several days prior. The occasional pubic hair could be seen curling out from these smears—further proof of his shaft’s regular use. Engorged to a thickness fractions of an inch short of own wrist (and bloated such that its flesh appeared redder and more irritated than the vein-mapped inches beneath it), her foremost desire upon laying eyes on his glans was to dig it into her nostrils and brand her brain with its scent.

But she didn’t. Instead, she crammed this fraction of his cock into the pressurized humidity offered within her mouth and throat and continued driving her skull downwards until its mouth-watering flavor and nubile heat were enveloped by her esophagus. In doing so, she made sport of squeezing a wildly inappropriate (for a child) length of cockmeat down her throat, and willfully subjected her gullet to irritation by the blood vessels bloating its exterior. If exteriorly simple (i.e a single cock-length vein studding its left side whilst a slightly fatter thread extended up into a pudgy coiling around and underneath its midsection), the squirming produced by the blood vessels was no less elating to feel against the lining of her esophagus.

One could argue that the sensations she garnered from mushing her nostrils against Malys’ crotch this way were in no way lesser than what she might’ve derived had she allowed her immediate desires to guide her behavior. Pramani, however, was not one such person. Whilst spurts of milky precum jetted out into adhesion against the depths of her esophagus lining, her thoughts remained decidedly split between what she had missed out on and what remained for her to accomplish.

Naturally, neither of these things slowed her breakneck ascent back up to the tip of Malys’ cock.

“This is what he smelt like too…” she mused. “I had always wondered what it would feel like to milk his flesh with one of my holes, and now I know ♥. I wish I could have snorted his precum into my brain beforehand, but I’ll just have to work without it. I’m sure that even he would worry if I did something like that so soon.”

Lips now at the peak of Malys’ member, Pramani pressed her tongue out against the underside of his member in a bid to bide time. Here, she began to swirl the saliva-drenched organ clockwise around the girth of his entrapped length to ensure that what time she spent in her own head remained purposeful.

Unbeknownst to her, the end result of her doing so was a load-fattening supplementation of her lips’ biting suckle to the beginnings of his erection, and an effective smearing of her tongue face with the pubic hair and smegma caked to its surface.

“I’ll just do this as intimately as I can. I have no excuse to lose to a woman who uses her son’s love to her advantage. I’ve been through far more than she has, and I’m better suited for Malys than she is.” she thought to herself. “I won’t have many opportunities to prove this once the others arrive, so I have to make the most of this one.”

“Please forgive me, Malys. One day, you’ll understand that everything I’ve done has been for you.”

Behind these measured and pragmatic thoughts came Pramani’s most perverse display of ‘prowess’ yet. Tongue caught in the midst of yet another gooey rotation, she stabbed her skull straight back down to the root of Malys’ crotch. Unlike her last abrasive engulfment of the boy’s shaft, this one was followed by an intentional loosening of her throat’s grasp on the midsection of his cock, and a learned regurgitation of the mucus and throatslop blended within her esophagus over the preceding few seconds. Features and gaze undisturbed throughout the gooey expulsion, she shamelessly discharged the murky fluid against his member with enough force to see fractions of its volume splattered into contact with his crotch.

Next, she returned to her throating. As if an automaton devoid of sensation, she wrenched her lips from their gluey kiss with the root of Malys’ shaft back up to his cocktip. This time ascending just slow enough to allow the lubrication she had spewed against his crotch to be drawn up along his reddened shaft in the form of numerous milky white strands, her lips arrival at their predefined stopping point was followed up by just as heavy (and splatter-inducing) a descent as before.

Effortless as her ministrations appeared, both were among the most punishing and phallus-draining that a woman’s mouth could produce. Whilst ascending, Pramani pursed her lips slightly tighter and willed the confines of her throat and esophagus into a more rigid and narrow configuration. Like this, the puffy, irritation-fattened meat of her mouthpussy was made to bear down on Malys’ erection with additional force. Succinctly, a ‘rock’ was met with a ‘hard place’. Mucus-glazed throatmeat intent on strenuously grinding a load from the juvenile phallus brought into its midst was met with a throbbing, sex-starved erection intent on absorbing a sickening amount of abuse before bursting. Neither seemed liable to yield, nor did the initial minute of her throating contain a single instance of faltering from either organ.

Whilst descending, the significance of this impasse was accentuated. Pramani had entertained fatter and larger cocks within the confines of her throat, but the heated bulk of Malys’ shaft was such that repeatedly fattening her neck with it was more so pleasant for her than strenuous. Driven by this pleasure, she made a point of gutting her esophagus’ depths as violently and messily as the musculature of her skull would allow. Maintaining the cock-sucking pressure fashioned throughout her ascent all the while, each plunge of her skull was followed by a quivering contraction of her G.I tract’s depths and a smaller (and no less muddy) expulsion of throatslop out against Malys’ crotch.

Through these, the pool of throatslop growing at Malys’ crotch was continually fed volume (even as fractions of its contents were repeatedly smeared to Pramani’s cheeks), and a backdraft of the substance significant enough to ‘miss’ the confines of her throat began to stream out of her left nostril. Yet, for as greasy as the impacts became, Pramani did not allow herself to stutter. Seemingly content to listen to the sodden *PLAPP-PLAPP-PLAPP* of her face against Malys’ crotch whilst the blended meat of her gullet assaulted his member, her fixated visage went unchanged behind each and every weighted plunged she produced.

Watching Pramani bounce effortlessly between the tip and root of Malys’ cock lent a great deal to the idea that the princess was not what she appeared to be. None were present to watch her save the boy ahead of her, but without insight as to what she had set her mind to, viewing her as anything other than a cock-milking monstrosity throughout her ministrations had quickly become far too difficult a task for a reasonable individual to undertake.

Malys—being a grossly underage child exposed to far worse stimulation in his lifetime—did so without thinking twice. In his mind, worrisome sexual prowess and emotionless degeneracy did not strike him as ‘traits’ to be concerned about. Really, he did not even know what these traits were; his mother’s behavior was slightly different, and the amount of time he had spent alive hadn’t facilitated the observation of “outside examples” capable of informing him. As such, he viewed Pramani’s actions as more-or-less normal. Menacingly pleasurable, but in no way worrisome with regard to his interactions with her in the future.

Whereas the mind of a ‘normal’ child might’ve been preoccupied (i.e liquefied) by the ruthless stimulation repeatedly slammed across the meat of his erection, Malys’ was concerned with managing himself well enough to spare Pramani undue trouble. Even with his lips spread to accommodate a drool-coated pant and his face peppered with the moist rosiness of sexual stimulation, his primary desire was ensuring that whatever motivation had pushed the older woman to this did not rob her of the ability to smile as she had when they met.

He knew no better than this.

“J-Just a bit more. If I’m quiet and c’n deal with it a bit more, P-Pramani won’t feel so bad…” a minute into Pramani’s throating, the weight fattened within his crotch assured Malys that his efforts would soon have meaning. “I c-can’t …look down. I-If I look down, something will c-change.”

“It always does. So no matter what, I-I can’t. N-Not until everything is squirting out i-into her tummy.”

If admirable in a very twisted sense of the term, that which Malys had committed himself to was impossible to maintain. Where Pramani was concerned, the willpower of a man was irrelevant—even more so if the man in question just so happened to be the miniature object of her affections.

Malys’ education as to this fact proved just as severe as the milking of his cock. Without a moment’s notice, Pramani brought her minutes-long throating effort to an end. Making the latest ascent of her lips along his member her last, she peeled the spread pillows up through an intentionally noisy and glutted *PLORP* from off of the nose of his member.

She did not abandon contact with his cock entirely, however. As soon as her lips slipped off of his enflamed glans, the hand that she had used to frame the root of his member rose up through a punishing ‘shear’ of his cock’s mess-glazed exterior until it arrived at the base of his glans. Made tight enough to drag a heady volume of her mouthpussy’s mess up alongside it, the motion’s end left Malys’ glans trapped underneath fingers thoroughly caked in the throat-warmed mire.

Pramani did not make use of her hand’s position immediately, however. Behind the affirmation of her grasp, her first priority was addressing her soon-to-be-husband in a manner that he wouldn’t be able to ignore.

“Your highness?” she began, voice inexplicably unaltered by her minutes of sloppy cocksucking.

Still committed to his ‘plan’, a panting Malys responded without taking his eyes off of a far flung corner within the bedroom.

“Y-Yes? A-Are you…ok?” he exhaled, weakly.

“Yes, I’m just fine. Could you please look down here for a moment? I’m beginning to feel as though you don’t like the idea of my proving my value to you…”

Still very much a child, Malys’ convictions wavered the moment his ears detected the slightest hint of sadness in Pramani’s voice. Pulling his frame up from his midsection, Malys bent his line of sight down towards her and the mess that had been made of his cock and crotch.

On doing so, Pramani’s grasp on the beginnings of his cock tightened, and her wrist began pumping the sleeve that she had formed up and down along these inches as though her life depended on it.

“Thank you, that’s much better.”Pramani continued, smiling. “I hope you were impressed with what the inside of my throat felt like. I must admit it isn’t the _best_ hole that I have to offer, but I couldn’t resist an opportunity to have the taste of your cock smeared inside of it.”

“Now that I know that you’re paying attention, I’m going to show you a different kind of pleasure, ok? I’d like for us to share it this time, though, so that means that you have to keep watching me as well. I’ll be very sad if you don’t—you’re not the kind of mean boy who would make his wife sad on purpose, are you?”

By nature, Malys was incapable of confirming the ‘fear’ that Pramani had presented. His inability to talk his way out of a false ascription wasn’t an issue, nor was his unwillingness to upset an adult. In time, he’d learn how to do both of these things just as easily as everything else.

_He_ was the issue; at his core, Malys was not a boy who could look at a pouting face and risk worsening it.

“I-I’ll…” audible yet shaken, Malys forced the beginnings of an utterance across his lips to combat the vicious *SCLHP* and *GRLP* noises produced as Pramani speedily choked the nose of member. “I’ll try. I-I don’t want you to make you sad, P-Pramani…”

“But…”

“But?” yet again, Pramani made her tone seem as if she was not long for a fit of exhalation. “I want you to cum _so_ **so** much, your highness. I just want you to see it—that way, it won’t just be my words telling you that this is the case.”

“You’ll see it…”

For a second time in as many minutes, Pramani changed. Pube-flecked lips parting from one another, she ceased speaking to allow a fraction of the saliva and mucus gunking her esophagus to descend into a slow, meaty drizzle against the hand she had wrapped around Malys’ mast. Released such that wads of the substance were allowed to drain from between them without adding further perversion to the act, every glob that made contact with her hand was immediately applied to one of the slovenly strokes she had committed her palm to. Either mushed into the bulk of his glans or plastered across the inches of cockmeat beneath it, not a single drop of the muck went to waste with regard to Malys’ stimulation.

Untaxed by the skillful display, Pramani returned to speaking the moment she ran out of drool to provide.

“You’ll see that the only thing I need my body for is being with you. As long as you’re watching, I can be the most **disgusting** , effective whore that there is. Not for anyone else…”

“Just for you ♥.”

With the statement of Pramani’s intent came a mesmerizing intensification of her stroking motions. Leaving the tightness of her grasp unaltered, she opted to further tax her wrist to produce a masturbatory blitz of pumping motions that were guaranteed to make her future husband explode. ‘Typical’ from the base of Malys’ glans right up to its nose, the very end of each stroke became defined by a vicious application of pressure from her palm.

Consequential to the motion was a mushing of the precum freshly milked from the tip of Malys’ cock and the throatslop drawn up into contact with it against the knob to new extremes. Each time she arrived at this section of her stroke, a jarring “ **SPLURT**!” better suited for the mashing of sodden cockmeat against the spongy flesh of a female orifice sounded out from her hand in quick succession. As it did, the excess volume of the substances lubricating Malys’ member were wrung from its exterior through the creases of Pramani’s fingers.

Believing himself to have no other choice but to, Malys attended to the sights and sounds of Pramani’s handjob with the same fervor he applied to watching her face. While far more taxing than making eye contact with a smiling face or lips plastered with a wiry assortment of pubic hair, he refused to avert or angle his gaze to spare himself the sight. Like the gutting pleasure that Pramani was grinding into his cock, this sight had been produced for him. Attending to it was mandatory…lest he make a certain someone feel bad. Thus, even whilst throbs and quivers within his crotch begged him to do anything but, Malys focused himself on Pramani’s efforts as though his life depended on it.

For this, he was rewarded with the brightest and warmest of smiles from the woman responsible for his distress…

This, and the very worst sort of motivation that could be funnelled into a boy’s ears.

“Almost there, see? You’re throbbing so much more now that you’re looking, your highness ♥.” Pramani cooed. “Thank you so much for paying attention to me. It makes me very happy to know that you value my happiness the way I value yours.”

“I won’t stop here, though. You have to cum, remember? If you don’t watch me pull out all of the **muddy babyjuice** you’ve built up inside yourself, there will be no proof that I did a good job.” in spite of the vulgarities introduced into her utterances, Pramani’s tone became no less mild nor inviting. To most, her voice was likely to suggest that she wasn’t speaking about anything perverse at all—this in spite of the fact that she was.

“Emperors need to be certain in all things—even ones as small and cute as you.” she continued. “So watch—let your **big sister** burn how much she loves you right into your brain.”

On processing this utterance, a throb more monstrous than any of the others to run through his length bolted from his crotch straight up into his brain. The words that Pramani had spoken, the meaning behind her actions; all such things fell from his mind as though they hadn’t belonged there to begin with. In an instant, the conviction and experience responsible for carrying the youth through Pramani’s display were overcome by the aggravation of a single biological directive:

Reproduction.

“GH’AHHH!!”

Whilst producing this outburst, Malys’ frame slipped back to a flat outstretching across the ground, and his jaw tightened to grind his teeth against one another. Within a second of these happenings, his hips surged upwards into a stifled thrust, and his palm-worn member finally erupted into a flourish of obscenely-headed seed.

Timing the event right down to the second, Pramani did not flinch when a rope of seed longer than her forearm leapt up into a stinging flop along (and in certain aspects, against) her face. Angled and glutted, the eruption’s peak delivered a sordid glob of cock-juice straight against the exposed face of her right eye. From here, a comparable fraction of the stinking plaster fell into contact with the ‘pocket’ between her cheek and eye socket before dribbling down into a streak adjacent to the right corner of her lip.

Pramani disregarded both the irritation of her eye, as well as the thickened, sludge-like qualities owned by the dingy-white nut that Malys had released. Behind the strand’s impact against her face, she released the tip of his member and hungrily snapped her skull down towards the tip of his member. Parting her lips throughout the same instant, her completion of this motion saw the second rope of glutted seed that burst from Malys’ member forced out into the lower reaches of her esophagus. In one fell swoop, she depressed the entirety of the boy’s quivering mast back through her throat, and afterwards began to ‘swallow’ against the flesh baton in an effort to draw all of its seed straight into her stomach.

Behind the second strand’s drenching of Pramani’s esophagus lining, the seed left to be elevated through Malys’ urethra was yoked through his length at a frequency that prolonged their producer’s tooth-grit groaning even further. Now backed both by the pressure of their build-up and the descending compressions of an esophagus’ peristalsis, their ejection became comparable to the depression of fluid through a wide-mouthed syringe. One after another—no matter how congested or elongated—mildly off-white plaster strands were injected through Pramani’s esophagus with hardly a stutter between them.

Each no less sperm-riddled or clotted than the last, their delivery against the lower reaches of her esophagus quickly birthed a streaky foundation ripe for fattening into a tube-clogging wad of semen (provided enough time and mire were fed into it). Though the majority of each strand was forced to tumble into her stomach by the strength of her swallowing, the blotches and smears left in the wake of these clearances were allowed to multiply and coagulate uninhibited (hence the persistence of a foundation of seed within the tube).

Not surprisingly, Pramani herself had no interest in suffocation. When the dregs of seed left within her gullet were stacked halfway towards the ‘ceiling’ of her esophagus, the tepid * **GLRPS**!* timed to each swallow she squeezed against Malys’ were amplified to a volume and duration that suggested that she was chugging something. This reaped from a simple ‘tightening’ of her mouthpussy’s confines, Pramani effectively squeezed every drop of nut laid into her esophagus into the basin within her stomach each time a fresh wad was blasted into its midst.

Only when Malys’ length was drained of all of the seed compiled within his balls did the sound of her gulping cease its domination of the chamber’s airspace. Having spent the entirety of his release up until this point fixing her gaze up towards his chin, the end of his orgasm also marked Pramani’s first non-sexual motion in minutes. Raising both hands, she gently pressed the moistened exterior of her palms against his thighs. Pushing off of them, she dragged her cock-spread lips up along his length inch by painstaking inch until they arrived at a familiar ‘kissing’ position at the nose of his cock.

Here, a single swipe of her tongue across the mountainous bulb of semen dredged up her ascent was the only further contact she needed. This done, she ceased applying pressure with her lips and allowed them to fall away from Malys’ cocktip without resistance.

Finally, her focus shifted onto the boy to which the still-erect phallus belonged. What she sent towards him was not the sharp, quietly domineering focus of minutes prior, however. Presently, her interest in the boy was far more airy and adoring; expectedly so, but in a manner jarringly juxtaposed against the efficient depravity that she had displayed moments prior.

Her thoughts had been addled by the event as well. Unwilling to speak aloud until she was certain that Malys could hear her, the subjects that she entertained after sitting upright were saccharine to the core.

“Maaaaaaa~ The taste of his seed is even better than his cock. He truly is his son, isn’t he?” she cooed to herself. “I was able to take everything without much difficulty, but a great deal of it is still stuck to the inside of my throat. Wherever could he be hiding such virility in such a small body?”

Pramani did not pose this question to herself in disbelief. Whilst cupping her right cheek as if savoring some fluffy delicacy, her eyes scanned Malys’ midsection and lower body in search of something to attribute all of the squirming warmth within her stomach to. Likely all too aware that she would find nothing, she smoothly abandoned the seconds-long gesture in favor of a stare down at the sweating and panting configuration of his face.

“…It looks as though I’ve made my case well enough, but I can’t be certain what the others have planned for the future. Emperor Tsent used to say that his son was becoming fickle, so I’m sure it won’t hurt if I push a little more than this.” she mused.

“I’ve nothing to be ashamed of, either. Who ought I spoil if not him?”

Somewhat more upbeat and somewhat less airy, Pramani slipped from her position opposite Malys’ crotch to one posted at the boy’s side. Reaching in towards his frame with both hands, she peeled his back off of the ground, then up onto a more comfortable incline atop her lap.

On placing him here, her eyes caught conscious movement in his own. Evidently, what he had endured had failed to disconnect his consciousness from reality.

Seeing this, she could not help but smile.

“How fortunate. Now I won’t have to waste any time at all.” she thought to herself.

Knowing nothing of the concept of ‘personal space’, Pramani pulled Malys further upright with the placement of a hand against his lower back, and dipped her skull down towards his own.

This done, her smile finally disappeared. All at once, she parted her lips to present the semen clotted atop the surface of her tongue and the stray pubic hair she had attempted to swallow alongside it. She did not swirl the substances around inside her mouth, nor did she make any attempts at gargling them. For seconds on end, she merely presented them where she was certain Malys could see them.

Then, she swallowed. Seconds into the motionless display, she sealed her lips and pushed her mouths grimy contents down her throat behind an especially harsh *GLORP*.

Mouth finally unencumbered, the next parting of her lips was solely for the purpose of speech.

“All gone ♥. Thank you again for bearing with me, your highness.” she exhaled. “I do not need to hear your answer until the appointed time, but I hope my intentions towards you are clearer now. I will do whatever I must to make you happy—even if this results in my becoming a common whore whilst in your presence.”

“I do hope to be able to function as your wife in other capacities as well, though.” she added, giggling.

Given the choice, Malys would not have responded to Pramani’s address. For as light and airy as his frame felt, the orgasm he had endured had rendered him a child in sore need of a nap.

  
Regrettably, he was not any child.

He was his father’s son—responsibilities and all.

“…your…” he began, quietly.

“Hmm?”

“‘Y-Your highness’ sounds…funny. I appreciate you working so hard….but could you call me Malys instead?” he replied.

Presented with Malys’ first genuine request of her, Pramani very nearly agreed to it unconditionally. She wished for nothing more than to be able to; her circumstance simply didn’t allow for it.

All the same, she nodded in confirmation.

“Certainly, Malys. But in return…”

“You must call me Pramani, and must also spend just a few more hours with me in this room.” she replied.

Without a reason (or the wherewithal) to refuse, Malys returned her nod with one of his own. Shortly after doing so, the second clause tacked on to Pramani’s request drew his features into the projection of a childish curiosity.

“W-What will we be doing here?” he asked. “I t-thought...we were supposed t-to be taking a break.”

To this, Pramani produced an even more succinct answer than before.

“You didn’t think that my trying to convince you would stop with that, did you, silly?”

-

**WHERE ONE COMES FROM**

Perhaps the most widely-known practice followed by the royal family of Rasshri concerns the treatment of its first born princesses. Throughout history, each generation of the family has produced a daughter that went on to marry a man of comparable standing from another country. With marital partners ranging from crown princes to lesser nobles of several varieties, the ‘appeal’ that these women grow to project is considered by most as one of many ‘gifts’ unfairly bestowed onto the upper class.

Perhaps the least widely-known aspect of this practice concerns the contrived, unforgivably cruel truth behind the effectiveness of their first princesses. From birth, these young women are denied any semblance of a normal life, and are instead ‘fashioned’ by a slew of teachers hell-bent on maintaining the traditions set by their ancestors. Etiquette, appearances, the sciences, magic, ethics; these things and more are burnt into their minds at a pace faster than the development of their individualities. Failure to attain competency in the majority of these things and outright mastery in a subject of their choosing is not tolerated. One way or another, these young women are made the spitting image of their predecessors well before they reach adulthood.

When these are mastered, the years that bridge the gap between their adolescence and adulthood are devoted entirely to the mastery of sex appeal. Through subjection to all manner of sex acts by men incapable of viewing them as more than a set of holes, their bodies are trained to provide sexual pleasure that exceeds the capacities and tolerances of their peers. No ‘order’ guides this instruction, nor do their instructors go out of their way to provide motivation for their successes or understanding for their failures. Until their ‘pupil’ learns to swallow their tears and disgust and greet the forms of sexual brutality imposed on them with a smiling warmth, daily instruction continues unmoderated. For months, and sometimes even years on end, the hell that these young women endure is not only endorsed, but necessitated by those around them.

For them, these things are a matter of traditional and continued survival. Throughout history, the marriage of first princesses to men of high-standing allowed for regular consolidations of the kingdom’s power and a progressive outward branching of its control over the lands most immediate to them. At worst, it never failed to confer some form of ‘advantage’ onto the family—whether in the present, or at some point in the future.

In the present, the repeated successes enjoyed by the royal family’s processes eventually enticed those at its head to put their methods to the ultimate test. Well before the confirmation of her birth, the first princess to be born during the youth of crown prince Tsent was chosen to be their masterpiece. Before the age of 20, she was to establish herself as a possible marriage partner for the soon-to-be-emperor, and if all went to plan, overcome the precedent set by the woman he had been betrothed to.

For their hubris, the Prierria paid a sore price. The latest of their first daughters did succeed in the goal that was set for her. Quite naturally, in fact; even without her training, she and the prince were drawn to one another almost inexplicably.

His wife-to-be did not take well to this. Rather than compete earnestly, Relia orchestrated the first princess’ demise in a manner that made the event seem like an accident. Barely 13 years old and born to a family responsible for supporting the empire for generations, all signage that suggested her involvement went disregarded, and eventually forgotten. More than a decade later, these actions facilitated her official marriage to the emperor, and later still, the birth of a new crown prince.

Left with nothing to show for the time and effort they had invested, the Rasshri avoided intimate involvement with the empire all throughout this period…

But not by choice.

In the wake of the first princess’ death, those leading the kingdom were ordered to do so by the emperor himself. Unexpected in both timing and severity, he stressed the seriousness of his directive with the delivery of an infant into their care, and a compromise for the future:

_“When I am married, bring this child with you to the celebration. We will be strangers then, but only for a day. From this point onwards, you are to bring her along with you whenever you visit—I will see to it that this is often.”_

_“Do this, and I will give you a semblance of what you sought by sending her to me.”_

Recognizing an opportunity, the Rasshri took the emperor at his word. The infant was taken in and fashioned as the first princess of the impending generation. Trained more severely than any of her predecessors as if to spite the woman who had come before her, all records detailing what she endured were destroyed each time she graduated from one 'stage' to the next.

Then, not long after her 14th birthday, she and the emperor were introduced. A year after the birth of prince Malys, Pramani and her family visited their superior neighbours to celebrate his birthday.

This marked the first meeting between Pramani Prierria, Malys, and the man to which they owed their lives.

-

**PRACTICAL USAGE**

Malys was a child prone to losing track of the passage of time. Particularly when incentivized to concentrate on one thing in particular, it was not uncommon for him to invest hours of time into the same activity without feeling as though more than a few minutes had passed.

Presently, despite his knowing where he was and what he was doing, the amount of time that had passed since any of these things had last changed was beyond him.

Being 5, the recurrence of this fault had very little effect on his actual life. From his perspective, the amount of time in a single day was sufficient for him to play catch up if for some reason he missed out on doing something he was supposed to. In such cases, the only thing that he had to worry about was making sure that his absence did not inconvenience anyone. Everything else—namely whatever his preoccupation had allowed to fall by the wayside—could be fretted about at another point in time.

Of course, Malys could not be drawn into forgetting himself for _just any_ reason. When set opposite to pumping his hips in and out against the crotch-consuming bloat of the asscheeks set ahead of his crotch, none of the things that were a part of his ‘usual schedule’ seemed that important. The same was true of the repeated, semen-greased injections of his cock through a congealed and quivering canal of cuntmeat, and the grotesque *GLRP*(s) and *CLOPP*(s) that the act fed into the airspace most immediate to him. These things struck the boy as deserving his undivided attention, and with their quality justified ignoring anything and everything else…

  
Even time.

Despite investing himself in these activities for several hours and spilling load after load of batter-thick cock juice into and against the ass at his crotch, Malys felt certain that continuing to do so was the best thing that he could do with his time…

And it was all thanks to Pramani.

Hours prior, she had advocated that the two of them spend the rest of their day with one another exploring her capacity for insemination. Initially wary of the subject, a weary Malys had attempted to talk his way out of the act for several minutes before Pramani presented him with another compromise. In return for humoring her request, she promised to join Magister Baldus in teaching him magics befitting an emperor. Apparently, a form of magic existed that even his aged teacher was not capable of teaching alone.

More so for the sake of Pramani’s contentment than the possibility of learning something new, Malys accepted her offer without much thought on the subject. Presently, however, the offer that she had made seemed less like a compromise and more like a treat designed for him to gorge himself on.

After the two of them moved atop the chamber’s sole bed, Pramani peeled her lower body out of the black sleeve gloving it in preparation for ‘setting’ herself. At the sight of the bubbly, blemish-less globe-span of her ass, Malys’ frame demanded that he prepare himself as well.

Before Pramani could finish dropping herself to her hands and knees, he planted his feet opposite her knees and gored his cock into the drooling cuntlips framed by her asscheeks. Upon piercing the slimy bloat of her lower lips, the sensation of taut cuntmeat grinding down on the rawed meat of his erection did the rest of his ‘work’ for him. Motivated to dig his tiny hands into the impossible excess of fat and flesh set at his crotch, all of the ‘habits’ instilled into him throughout his youth saw every inch of his cock snugly skewered into her cunt’s embrace.

Since this debilitating compression of his erection, Malys had willfully fucked his body towards failure thrust by cock-fattening thrust. Quickly and seamlessly addicted to the swirling contractions of Pramani’s cuntmeat against his erection, his ‘testing’ of her womanhood became more comparable to a livid fit of masturbation with its flesh mere minutes into the act. Glans repeatedly mushed up against the succulent bulb of cervix flesh at the hole’s back and cock veins firmly embraced by the congealed, syrup-drenched excess surrounding it, the conditions that surrounded his member almost necessitated this. If he did not curl and stab his crotch against her ass as aggressively as he could, the confines of her cunt would siphon his member dry even faster than his thrusting pattern would.

Such speed would not make for a very thorough ‘test’ of her folds at all—not by his definition of the term.

With this in mind, he endured. Frame already slick with sweat and heated by a feverish lust, Malys clapped his crotch against Pramani’s wobbling dough-spheres as quickly as his tiny frame could manage. When occasionally smothered by her hole’s fleshy suckling to the point that his cock could take no more, he intentionally stopped his thrusting chain short to nuzzle the tip of his cock against her cervix and flush steaming nut directly inside her womb. Inexplicably left erect after each voluminous salvo of jizz strands he produced, the end of these releases were followed by a resumption of his thrusts precisely where they had left off.

On the stimulation he garnered alone, Malys had more than enough reason to continue disregarding reality in favor of spiking his cock through to its semen-glutted envelopments by Pramani’s cunt. Strictly speaking, he had more than enough reason to abandon the decades of life that remained for him in favor of blowing clotted loads of semen as well.

Having these ‘reasons’ did not guarantee their dominion over the boy’s actions. For all of their potency, Pramani made herself an ever-present and far more prevalent impetus for the gutting of her folds with both her words and actions.

She was not yet done proving herself. Until she was, she needed to be present for Malys in as many aspects as possible.

“You’re going to cum again soon, Malys. It will feel… m-much better if you hug the flesh of one of my breasts as you do.” out of nowhere, another pleasured exhalation from the woman was injected amidst the sodden clopping of a child’s crotch against her ass and the voracious suckling of her holds. “You’ll d-do it…w-won’t you? You’ll hold me while pouring your slimy cock juice inside my womb again? I-I’d feel nicer if you did, too…♥”

If practiced in her craft and faultless in its execution, Pramani was not immune to the stimulation Malys’ motions provided. Whereas the _content_ of her speech went unaltered throughout the delivery of his thrusts, signage of the destructive bliss that writhed and throbbed against her vaginal canal’s meat seeped through its quality. More so than before, the need that had been fucked into her uterus could be observed in the occasional gap that formed between her utterances and the stutters imposed upon her words by an occasional loss of breath.

Fairly stated, no woman could be expected to meet the boorish pummeling of her uterus with a straight face. Considered alongside the sloshing of her beloved’s portly nut sloshing around inside her uterus and the nuzzling of the oversized tadpoles contained within it against her canal lining, a certain amount of ‘looseness’ was the very least that could be expected of her. All the same, the fact that it was the oversized phallus of an orgasm-drunk 5 year old that had chipped away at her so was in its own way poetic.

She had asked for a test, and a test was precisely what she had received.

“M-My cunt is already prepared t-to be yours and—myngh♥—yours alone. T-That’s why i-it has been squirting so much, and t-that’s why I’m sure it feels so sickeningly tight squeezing down on all of those veins your cock has.” she continued, skull curling backwards to bend a sultry gaze back at the child behind her. “So you need not…f-focus much more on that. My insides will swallow everything no matter how hard you abuse them, so don’t let the rest of me go to waste.”

“I want you to enjoy all of me.”

No less impressionable than the average child, Malys understood Pramani’s suggestion as a directive. Though his libido desired for him to continue staring at the flesh of her ass bouncing against his crotch, the sound of her voice drew his dominant hand out of its intimate groping of her buttocks fat and sent it into a crawl up the length of her torso. Just long enough a limb to deliver his tiny palm into contact with the clothed fat of her left breast, Malys immediately compressed his fingers into the sex-warmed flesh down to the same satisfying depth he had managed with her ass.

To compensate for his lack of control over Pramani’s lower body, Malys adjusted the rest of his frame to compliment his new position. First, he dropped his midsection down into contact with the peaks of her buttocks fat. Next, so as to create more leverage for his cock, he pushed himself upward and inwards on the tips of his toes to further grind the nose of his shaft against the impenetrable bulk of her cervix.

Reaped from this was another deafening surge of sensation through his miniature frame. Albeit not nearly as debilitating as the first, its passage through his frame again spread his lips in the production of a strained groan.

This time, though, words (as opposed to incoherent huffing) followed behind it.

“Y-Your tummy’s gonna hafta suck down all of it! I-I can’t stop digging my cock inside!” Malys cooed. “P-Please suck everything o-out, Pramani. I-I c-can’t...”

Per his appearance, the words that Malys produced were both pleasure-choked and legitimately breathless. Pushed through a maw riddled with spindles of saliva by lungs strained to keep up with a tireless libido, they cumulatively represented the entirety of the boy’s reality:

For all he had accomplished, he remained a child content to cling to the soft warmth of an older female’s frame.

“I can’t stop churning up your tummy with my cock!”

True to his word, the completion of this utterance saw Malys commit to a hopeless exacerbation of the thrusting pattern that had driven him to this point. Beginning with another ingress of his crotch via the tips of his toes, the shape of his cock-injections took on the appearance of a short-length pummelling—the sort a man utterly addicted to the meat surrounded his cock might employ to satisfy themselves quickly and concisely.

Summarily, Malys refused to deny himself any amount of her folds’ embrace. By angling the hook of his crotch further outwards and deepening the nuzzle of his crotch up against the fat of her rear, each stroke of his cock through her cunt became a breakneck siphoning of its flesh for the sludge sloshing within his gravid testicles. Whilst plunged inward, what few inches separated the elongated cudgel from its full hilt inside her were crammed back between her lower lips behind a juicy expulsion of semen and cunt juice. Halted only after his glans were skewered against the immovable bloat of her cervix, the gutting rigidity that Malys produced throughout his ingress was afterwards ‘reciprocated’ in the form of blended convulsions from Pramani’s inner walls.

As quickly as his cockflesh disappeared from Pramani’s innards did his crotch wrench it from out of her. Informed as to what her folds could do whilst unobstructed, Malys’ hips messily peeled his endowment back through the rolling convulsions applied by her folds until only the majority of his shaft remained inside her. Indifferent to the haggard backdrafts of seed blurted from between her cuntlips throughout his retreat, Malys managed this without a visible increase in his ‘distress’. Then, before the settling of his shaft could induce her inner walls to knead his meat for a second time, he crammed every inch of himself straight back down to a succulent hilt inside her.

Throughout these chained injections and retreats, a fleshy and sodden *PLORP*(s) owed to both the clapping of Malys’ crotch against Pramani’s rear and the churning of her spread depths sounded out one after another. Sloppy and short-lived, the brisk pace at which they were produced made it impossible to discern one of these outbursts as different from another.

Needless to say, ‘individuality’ for the guttural noises was irrelevant. Perceived by a pair of individuals far too taken with the sounds of their sex to scrutinize them, the muddling of the squelching noises failed to detract from their impact. Per beat produced, Malys felt his breath grow shorter and Pramani felt her consciousness grow lighter. Regardless of what they were, the noises served as a compliment for the sensations writhing through both of their frames until the ‘end’ foretold by their quality arrived all at once.

Like before, the pleasure that Malys generated with his thrusts in turn generated signage that an experienced woman could not ignore. Privy to all of the additional throbs and wriggles fed through the blood vessels about his cock, Pramani measured their growth up to a point burnt into her mind by his earlier releases.

Only a second past it, she again pushed motivation for Malys across her tongue.

“Please feed my tummy your baby juice again, Malys! Squirt it all in until it rots my brain!” she begged. “Show my insides that they’re just a toilet for your seed ♥!”

Truthfully, what she uttered was of no importance. So long as it came out of her mouth in the saccharine tone to which Malys had become accustomed, the boy’s frame was bound to adhere to it. As soon as his ears caught it, the grasp he had placed on Pramani’s breast became a one-armed hug of as much of its flesh as he could envelop. Next came a sharp descent of his chest down against her lower back, and a selfish deepening of the thrusts delivered into her folds by several painstaking inches.

Utterly without further options, Malys’ frame made no plans to act beyond this point. Instances into his hilt, another strained groan from his lips, and another surge of glutted semen began jetting out of the tip of his cock.

Like its predecessors, the first rope to leap from the tip of his member was funnelled through the dilated midsection of Pramani’s cervix as battered resin through a syringe. Clotted and heavy, the dingy substance was compressed ever so slightly throughout its passage through the donut, and delivered into the coagulated basin of sludge contained within her womb with the force of a shotgun blast.

The moment she felt it, Pramani’s composure vanished. To a far gaudier extent than the expulsions that had preceded it, the jetting of Malys’ cockjuice into her womb spread her lidded eyes wide with euphoria and slackened her jaw to the point her tongue feel into an orgasmic curl out from the right corner of her lips. Subsequently, the thundering of yet another orgasm through her gut detonated a weighty bomb of cuntsyrup straight against Malys’ crotch.

Succinctly, something about Malys’ latest orgasm was different—so much so that her body could not help but respond in kind.

When finally the entirety of the bloated cumthread was delivered into her babymaker’s interior, what these differences were began to present themselves. Somehow thicker and more bulbous than the jizz strands spewed into the organ whilst Malys’ ‘reserves’ were less dented, the thread’s content was not consumed by the volume of seed already within her until several additional spurts were draped on top of it. So far as she could tell, the steaming fluid was somehow more ‘solid’ than the mire left to bake within her womb thus far.

Quality aside, this initial strand was blasted far deeper into her organ than any of the others. Whereas most had tapered off into a hooked flop against her uterine lining (i.e a loss of momentum for a straight-on shot), this one was backed by enough pressure to facilitate a firm splatter against the roof of her womb. To reiterate, the spurts released behind it eventually dragged its contents from this region down into the semen pooled at the organ’s bottom half. All the same, its delivery here set a precedent that was maintained from the beginning of Malys’ orgasm to its end.

In the seconds that followed its delivery, a half dozen eruptions comparable to it were blown out into the glutted confines of Pramani’s uterus one after another. By virtue of their thickness and the impossible volume of semen already plugged inside the engorged bulb, their delivery saw the bloat of her womb fattened to that of a grapefruit within the blink of an eye. 

From this point onward, however, the inflation of her womb with the substance was slowed to a crawl. The quality of Malys’ release was not to blame for this. The continuation of his orgasm did see some of the chewable thickness of his seed ebb off, but the substance’s womb-staining virility never slipped below a certain threshold of obscenity.

Pramani herself was the cause. Elated to feel Malys’ largest orgasm yet flooding her seed-plastered womb, she actively willed the organ into as taut and consistent a ‘bulb’ of semen as was possible. In doing so, all of the stimulation that she was enjoying was exacerbated by the creation of a maddening pressure inside her womb.

In her mind, subjecting herself to this was practical as well. Not only was she increasing her odds of being inseminated, but Malys would again feel a fraction of what her warped body was capable of.

What effort she put forth (very little) bore fruit seconds later. Blurt by blurt, Malys’ orgasm was inched closer towards completion. The caustic *GLORPS* made to rumble within her guts had yet to cease ringing through her ears, but what she had experienced throughout her youth told her that it wouldn’t be long before her task was complete.

Fully functional in spite of all she had endured, this knowledge threaded a giggle through her lips, and tempted her rear into a crippling wiggle against Malys’ crotch.

“Ah-haha~ I got it all, Malys ♥. I-Isn’t it impressive that a woman who loves you so can milk everything out of you, too?” she suggested, eyes curled hazily into the peaks of their sockets. “You filled me so well! Even if you don’t choose me, my body will probably produce a child for you anyway…”

“Your father would be so very happy if he could see us now…♥.”

Balls empty and phallus-drained, Malys was without a single resource from which to derive a response.

In the first place, he didn’t want to produce one. The only thing he wanted to do was continue breathing in Pramani’s scent whilst embracing her frame.

Her body was comforting—like the lap he had sat in as a boy, and the bosom he had nestled himself into as an infant.

Like a part of him installed into someone else.


	2. Relia Reslit's Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of Malys' and Pramani's meeting with one another comes to an end after several exhausting hours of slovenly intercourse within a room that Pramani selected at random. The following morning, Pramani departs from Malys' bedroom only to find his mother posted in wait for her. Relia and Pramani exchange passive aggressive pleasantries with one another, and the game they are participating in is extended by a display of Relia's position as its leading player.
> 
> All that other shit aside, it bleeds into some of the most obscene facefucking content/milf /ss/ content I've ever done with a bunch of other tight doujin shit mixed in. On god, there's some alright stuff in here.

To the surprise of the Rasshri royal guard, Pramani Prierria did eventually exit from the bed chamber she had dragged the emperor into. Well after the arrival of dusk—nearly 9 hours after their entrance— a decidedly less ‘kept’ version of the princess stepped out from between the room’s double doors hand in hand with an equally-dishevelled (and far more fatigued) iteration of her potential fiancé. 

No questions were posed to the pair as to the quality of their ‘rest’. Trained from early adolescence to study their surroundings, each of the guardsmen present concluded that the two of them had not entered the room with the intention of sleeping. Despite Pramani’s presenting this as the reason for the sudden abandonment of her itinerary, both lady and boy appeared then as more haggard than they had hours prior. Whilst Pramani managed to convey this fatigue with a modicum of grace (‘grace’ as accented by the persistence of a single wire of black pubic hair at the corner of her mouth, a vibrant dishevelment of her typically pristine platinum hair, and the installment of an adorable blush into both of her marble white cheeks), Malys wore his condition as he did his clothes. Very nearly asleep on his feet, the muddling of his black hair and his willingness to lean against the princess’ thigh for support firmly defined him as a child exhausted from a day’s activity.

Suggestive as they appeared together, none of the guards present commented on the goings-on of the preceding hours, either. Knowledgeable as to Pramani’s ruthlessness and otherwise ‘informed’ on the hours-long event by their ears, the task of breaking the brief silence that followed the pair’s exit was left to the young woman responsible for it.

_ “I-I apologize for keeping all of you here for as long as I have. His highness did manage to sleep a bit, but it appears he had been pushing himself a great deal prior to our meeting.” _

_ “I intend to speak with him about resuming our time together when he is in better condition. For now, would you all be so kind as to escort us back to his bedroom? I’d rather not inconvenience those who make use of these chambers any further.” _

In unison, a firm grunt of assent from the guardsmen reinitiated the procession Pramani had stuttered without further issue. Measured to match the sluggish patter of the emperor at its center, the sound of heavy-armor grinding against itself was projected through several different stretches of corridor for minutes on end before the task set out for the guardsmen was complete. 

On arrival at Malys’ chambers, another stint of silence amongst the guardsmen (this one concluded by a deep bow at the princess’ departure alongside the emperor) bled seamlessly into a number of coin flips and hand gestures amongst them. Subsequent to the outcomes of these gestures and the muttered “Shit” (s) and “This fucking job, nigga. A mans can’t even win a fucking coinflip and go get a drink, I hate this shit man, fuck. FUCK.”(s) that followed, two of the four guards present departed from their posts ahead of Pramani’s doorway to allow their peers dominion over the first shift of nightwatch.

Enthused in anticipation of a casual night’s stroll back to the barracks, the rigidity demanded of these guards disappeared the moment their peers fell out of earshot. For a time, the corridors of the royal floors were filled with the low, abrasive banter of men sworn to the same cause and worn from its fulfillment.

So invested did these men become in the other’s company that the extinguishment of their banter required several seconds of registration before their minds became aware of it. Without warning or remorse, a wave of silence projected from the length of corridor that led out from the castle’s stairway consumed their voices and dispossessed them of all desire to retrieve them.

When next they found this desire, neither man resumed speaking volitionally.

  
Whether they recognized as much or not, they did so only because they had been spoken to.

-

**MALYS RESLIT’S BEDROOM—DAWN**

Fresh from a gentle creep from off of a mattress and set in mid-stride towards a pair of doors, a nightgown-clad Pramani raised her left hand and rotated her wrist amidst an extension of her index and middle fingers. Invisible to all eyes but her own, the gesture produced, and subsequently projected a thin silver wisp of magic directly ahead of the closed entranceway to Malys’ bedroom.

Once formed, the wisp slithered underneath the door frame and out into the corridor ahead of it before returning just as swiftly. On its return, Pramani rotated her wrist a second time to do anyway with the spell that had forged it moments prior to arriving opposite the doors herself.

Here, she exhaled.

“Good, they’re still between shifts.” she thought to herself. “I’ll go now, then. I doubt I’ll be able to go  **there** , but I should at least be able to refamiliarize myself with the castle for a little while before I see it with Malys.”

“I suppose I’ll have other opportunities moving forward, but I can’t waste time. I won’t be the only one here for long…”

Without allowing any of the emotions attached to her thoughts to bleed into her facial features, Pramani gently pushed her way through Malys’ bedroom doors with both hands. Swift and silent, her first step out into the corridor saw her focused visage replaced with an elegant smile fit for a princess, and her posture straightened in betrayal of the bruised soreness of her abdominals and the wadded semen tempted to drool from her cunt.

Around Malys, presenting as ‘less’ than could be expected of the first princess of Rasshiri could be forgiven. If anything, doing so was likely to help her chances of wedding him before it hurt them; though barely past infancy, hints of his father’s propensity for coddling could be seen in several aspects of his behavior.

Around others, doing so remained a dangerous liability. Thus, per her upbringing as a young woman whose life’s purpose was certain to bring countless individuals from countless families to detest her, Pramani exited her bedroom without weakness.

Having done so by way of reflex at a juncture wherein the corridor that awaited her had been confirmed as empty, no part of her had anticipated reward for another commonplace display of discipline.

Nevertheless, a reward was what she received. Upon completion of her first step into the corridor, Relia Reslit stood smiling in wait for her.

At the sight of her, Pramani’s discipline allowed her to project an unbothered astonishment as opposed to seething frustration.

“Ara ara, you’ve gotten so beautiful, Pramani! If it weren’t for that  **sickeningly cunning** face of yours, I’d have hardly recognized you!” smiling softly with both eyes closed, Relia met her younger peer with the same inviting candor that she always did. “Good morning, by the way. I’d ask how you slept, but your guards tell me you and Malys were very,  **very** fatigued when you turned in last night. Looking at you now, I can already tell how much good sleeping in the  **old bedroom Tsent kept for you** has done.”

“Unless I’m mistaken?”

Innocent and wistful, Relia raised her right hand up to the right side of her chin and slanted her index finger across the region as if genuinely unsure of her deduction. This done, she took to silence for a few seconds before taking Pramani’s unwillingness to respond as a sign that she had guessed correctly.

“Ah, well, whatever the case, you’re certainly awake early this morning—I had thought you’d try to spend your time with Malys as close to him as possible.” she continued. “Since you’re leaving your bedroom without him, shall I assume that you have some business to attend to?”

**“Perhaps something related to Baldus leaving the castle and naming you as Malys’ instructor?”**

Faced with Relia’s deductions, Pramani fell silent. That knowledge of her pressuring the former magister had reached her was not particularly surprising, nor was the wistful, matronly candor that she questioned her with so disarming as to tie her tongue. Both of these things were to be expected of Relia Reslit—anything less would not have suited her.

What held Pramani’s tongue was the fact that the smiling woman had somehow managed to acquire a level of visual appeal higher than what she had maintained when first the two of them were introduced.

Nearly 6 years prior, Relia Reslit was a new mother fresh from the realization of her body’s purpose. Then in ownership of a healthy peach-white complexion set aglow with the warmth of motherhood and a luscious head of black hair neatly set within a modest, neck-length ponytail that left her forehead covered by a right-slanted sheet of bangs whilst a thumb-width blade of locks draped down vertically along the left side of her face before arcing down into contact with her chest, her surface features somehow projected the simplicities of a young housewife alongside the regal qualities of royalty.

These blessings were her most modest as well. Sloped along her chest and the fringes of her upper abdominals at all times were succulent, formerly G-Cup breasts whose engorgement by breast milk and hormones had swelled them to an irresistibly eye-catching I. Both topped off by wide, low-height knobs of juicy nipple flesh owning the same pale pink coloration as the palm-width areola beneath them, their leakage and engorgement had rendered the entirety of her wardrobe a mess of stretched, undersized fabric and milk stains. Perfectly ‘natural’ in their settlement as wobbly teardrops of breast meat more than 1.5 times the size of her skull, those who laid eyes on them willingly normalized their appearance to a perfect installation of fat and flesh and flesh lest they otherwise be forced to define them as inhuman.

Alongside a set of breasts perfect for nurturing any number of children, she had somehow maintained a figure ideal for birthing them. Mere weeks following her birth, the once impressive width of her hips was measured as being a handful of inches wider, and the near-hourglass midsection she had maintained was gratuitously padded with fat. All of the muscular indentations of the trained midsection she had earned in her youth remained, yet whilst dressing herself from the waist down, the straps of her panties were prone to depression into doughy ridges of fat surrounding her lower abdominals and the peaks of her hips. Not ridiculously, but in such a perfectly excessive manner that an observer would sooner clench their first in approval of it than turn their nose up in disgust.

Through no fault of her own, similar increases in body fat assailed her buttocks and thighs. Sparse with her activity whilst carrying Malys to term, both of her buttocks acquired a bloat comparable (if slightly smaller in reality) to her breasts, yet far rounder and puffier in presentation. The strain that they had placed on her wardrobe was no less significant—this primarily as a result of their scale doubling the size of her skull and their contribution to the protrusion of a picturesque inverted heart at her backside—but whispers about their propensity to move in time with the empress’ gait were kept sparse so as to spare the new mother feelings of insecurity.

Courtesies notwithstanding, her thighs were a much more enticing talking point in comparison. Perhaps two or three times the girth of those owned by an average female and somehow spared from consumption by stretched skin and lumpy fatness, the aged tree-trunks of peach-colored flesh served as the second most significant sign of her fertility. At the sight of them and the titillating gap created each time her standing position demanded close contact between their lengths, her status as ‘mother to the next emperor’ was made to seem as all the more ‘expected’ amongst her peers. 

Unlike those around her, the sight of Relia as she was then filled Pramani with more loathing and disgust than it did admiration. Privy to the atrocities carried out for her (Relia’s) benefit, the gulf in their maturity and physical assets served only to remind her as to the mountain she was to climb if she was to one day take everything away from her. Then without a means of properly coping with these reminders, she explained them away as strokes of biological luck whose quality was certain to deteriorate as their owner aged.

In the present, the Relia ahead of her showed no signs of such deterioration. Even whilst presented underneath the fabric of a lavender night-dress tailored for the express purpose of modesty, none of her curvature had sagged, nor had the excess meat in her breast and thighs lost any prominent tautness. Were it not for the fact that she had remained the same height (this facilitating Pramani’s standing level with her), her eyes may well have argued that time had not passed for her at all.

If taken aback, Pramani knew better than to trust her eyes with such a decision. Amidst her silence, the renewal of her sex-bruised musculature’s throbbing and flashes of memory from the preceding 5 years of her life reminded her that a great deal had changed—even if Relia herself hadn’t.

Calmed, she loosened her lips with the presentation of a smile.

“…Good morning to you as well, Relia.” smooth in delivery and calm in tone, the time that Pramani took for herself facilitated a retort that matched the cool expression she maintained. “While I did sleep  **very well** thanks to Malys, my waking up early today doesn’t have anything to do with my business with Baldus. I will say that he was wise to choose his life over his position, however.”

“On that subject, you’ll have nothing to worry about. I’ll ensure that Malys is better educated than either of us were  ♥ .”

Almost relieved at Pramani’s return to form, Relia stifled a giggle and exhaled.

“Maaa, it’s been so long since I’ve lost an exchange! I knew you’d be trouble if I let you develop, but Tsent would have gotten upset with me if I ever tried to touch you.” she giggled, airily. “As much as it saddens me to say, perhaps his not being here is for the best. I’d have hated for him to have started to dislike me for something as simple as destroying you.”

Undaunted by the older woman’s closed-eyed exasperation, Pramani stretched her smile into a smirk. In turn, Relia drove their discourse closer to its core.

“Well, what’s done is done. If it has nothing to do with Baldus, I suppose I’ll leave you to it. You should know that Malys views him as a boy would their grandfather, so I’d ask that you not upset him with the news.” Relia continued. “Also, if you are actually leaving, you’ll have to resume your time with him on another day. The reason I’m here is to take him—the only way I’ll leave empty handed is if Malys asks me to. Which he won’t, of course.”

Noting hints of defiance in Relia’s voice in spite of its consistent tone, Pramani produced a sickening sweetness all her own. First stepping to the left of the door behind her, she afterwards raised a hand towards it as if to welcome Relia ahead of her.

Past completion of the gesture, she complimented it with speech.

“Go right ahead. Malys may be emperor, but he is still your son. I wouldn’t be a very good wife to him in the future if I got between the two of you…” she began, quietly. “He and I will have plenty of time to spend with one another during his lessons, too. That should make for more than enough time for me to sway his opinion, don’t you think?”

“After all, it isn’t as though I’m stooping **_so low_** as to use my relation to him to move his heart.”

Yet to miss a beat, Relia repelled the insinuation thrust at her with an ingress. Holding her closed-eyed gaze straight at the door ahead of her throughout her short-lived approach, her arrival within a step from the interior of Malys bedroom saw her turn to address the smirking young woman once more.

Chillingly, not so much as a twinge of discomfort rippled through her features as she did so.

“You can refer to it however you’d like—it doesn’t change the fact that Malys already cherishes me a great deal. If you think you can forge something with him that exceeds that, you’d be the same kind of fool that Tsent was.”

Content to have hit a nerve, Pramani pressed her smirk ever wider.

“I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” she snapped.

“Yes, we shall  ♥ .” Relia retorted. “In fact, if you have a moment free before you depart, please remain by the door after I step inside. I think what you’ll end up seeing should put things in perspective for you.”

With this, Relia continued her stride without another word. Seemingly indifferent as to whether or not Pramani would take her up on her suggestion, she made her way forward with a focus that suggested fixation on a single goal.

All throughout, her appearance was that any mother might’ve maintained in the midst of striding towards their son.

It did not remain as such, however.

Soon enough, she became someone else entirely.

-

Malys Reslit detested dreams. Unlike the majority of children within his age group, he maintained no affinity for the so-called ‘good’ sort that awaited him in the inky nothing of unconsciousness, and refused to fear the dreaded nightmares that so often robbed children of peaceful slumbers. Through and through, he loathed both in their entirety—so much so that his body’s need for sleep remained one of few things liable to furrow his brow and drag him into fits of juvenile protest.

His discontentment with the phenomenon was not completely unfounded. Whilst most children were treated to adventures whose contents ranged from mundane to fantastical by their good dreams or taught fear of the unknown by their nightmares, his dreams always pertained to voices. Time and time again, his slippage out of consciousness rendered him an observer to a world comprised solely of voices. Formless and incessant, these voices were blended amongst one another and cycled in patterns that reminded him of a grating form of music. Sometimes, it seemed to him as though a message was being conveyed to him as well. However, in lieu of a means of deciphering it, its content remained as valueless as its screeching constituents.

After falling asleep beside Pramani, another of these droning hazes consumed him. Somehow softer and more legible in quality, its ubiquity relative to all of the others he could recall was understood by his unconscious mind as a consequence of the time he had spent with Pramani. 

In the noises he took in was comfort; a dangerous, all-consuming warmth capable of consuming his psyche if ever he gave himself over to it.

Fearful, his frame plucked his psyche from this haze at its first opportunity. Responding to the sound of footsteps within his bedroom and the warmth of a blade of golden sunlight projected across his face, his eyes fluttered open to reintroduce his mind to the world around him. 

A second later, Malys returned to consciousness. Endearingly groggy, he dragged his tiny frame up into a seated position atop his bed and briefly rubbed at his eyes with both hands before making an effort to survey his surroundings. Throughout his seconds of pruning, an influx of fragmented memories detailing the events of the previous day sluggishly primed him to turn to his left in search of Pramani. In part as a result of his body’s memory of her touch, ascertaining her condition and ensuring her comfort within the confines of his bedroom were pushed to prominent positions on his ‘list of things to do upon awakening’.

While admirable, his shift in priorities did not amount to anything. Well before he could think to actually turn his head, a surge of noise and motion projected at him from the mouth of his bedroom demanded that all of his attention be centered on its source. Vision-cleared and reflexes primed, he raised both of his arms into a narrow spread ahead of him, and closed his eyes in anticipation of the impact of ‘something’ against his front.

Only after the surge succeeded in depressing his body back down against his mattress did he recall how purposeless these efforts were in the first place.

“Maaaaaaaaalysssssss! Good morning!” Relia exhaled, voice enthusiastic and airy. “How did you sleep, sweetie? Mommy missed you a whole bunch yesterday ♥!”

Apparently rendered sweeter and more affectionate by the day that they had spent apart, Relia punctuated the latest of her ‘morning time hugs’ with a greeting laced with concern and longing. Produced after the weight and swell of her breasts smothered Malys up against the headboard of his bed, she offset the force of her impact by enveloping his upper body into a tight hug against her breasts with both of her arms. Met with a reciprocation of her hug by the same pair of tiny arms she had watched grow since their owner’s infancy, she waited for Malys to tighten his embrace of her neck just slightly before pressing her skull downward and inward to nuzzle the fringes of her left cheek against his right.

As she did so, her greeting continued.

“Not having you around was awful! I wasn’t able to get anything done by myself—it’s so much harder without you there to help me!” she complained. “All of the council members were so mean, too! They all kept reminding me of how important it was for you to spend time with Ms. Prierria and about how I need to be responsible as your mother. I’m trying really hard to do everything right, but they really have no idea how much you help me!”

Behind this utterance, Relia cut her string of complaints short and at last peeled her cheek out of contact with Malys’. Afterwards, she turned the mild discontentment on her face into a brand of vulnerable sadness befitting a much younger woman, and again turned her gaze down towards her son.

“It was the same with Ms. Prierria, too! She left your room a little while ago, but when we spoke in the hallway, it seemed like she was upset with me. It feels like I can’t do anything right…”

Per the demands of the role that she assumed whilst in her son’s presence, Relia took to a silent sulk after producing these words. Facial features only inches away from Malys’, she used the seconds that followed to present as though she was doing her best to hold back tears and manage her insecurities as an adult ought.

If executed correctly, these things as combined with her complaints were guaranteed to draw a particular sort of reaction from her son.

Practiced in her craft to the point of mastery, Relia did not so much as bat an eyelash when her efforts reaped another tightening of Malys facial expression and a gentle, left-right shake of the boy’s head.

“That’s not true, Mother! You do sometimes have trouble on your own, but I can’t do much better myself!” he replied, firmly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there—this isn’t the first time you’ve complained about those men. I’m still too little to change things, but I’ll try to speak to them for you, okay? They shouldn’t pick on you just because you’re not suited to your tasks, yet.”

“I don’t think Pramani meant to be mean to you, though. I think she’s just very formal—Baldus was a little concerned about her as well, but she’s actually very kind!” he continued, smiling. “Everything will be fine, though. You could never be incompetent, so just…um…yes! Focus on trying. If you give your best effort and there are those that are still unhappy with you, we’ll deal with it together.”

“Okay?”

Bathed in the exact brand of acceptant coddling she had expected to receive, Malys’ words very nearly dragged Relia into the projection of a sneer over her shoulder. Far too efficient to take such a risk, she instead busied herself by softening the dismay on her face into a tentative smile and momentarily tightening her embrace of Malys’ midsection.

Subsequently, her act continued.

“T-Thank you, Malys. Mommy’s sorry that she’s still so hopeless by herself—she should be taking care of you, but it always ends up the other way around...” completing her sentence with a mild giggle, Relia made certain to display that Malys' words had made an impact on her mood before continuing with her response. “I’ll keep trying hard, though! All of my complaining must’ve made it difficult to tell, but my coming to wake you today has lots to do with that!”

Pausing briefly, Relia dipped her skull inward to plant a brief kiss against Malys’ cheek. Once placed, she loosened her grasp on his frame and pulled just far enough away from his chest to take the weight of her bust and midsection off of his front.

This done, she spoke out again—this time with a genuine smile on her face.

“The council’s arrangement with the kingdoms is your foremost responsibility, but no matter what, my foremost responsibility will be looking after you. That means I have to use every pocket of time that I can to my advantage—even when you’re supposed to be spending time with someone else.” she explained.

“So, without further ado…”

Mid-speech, Relia supplemented her allusion with an abrupt plunge of both of her hands down into contact with the waistline of Malys’ pajama pants. Undaunted by the unwashed cudgel of sweaty, semi-erect cockflesh that so often bloated the garment’s crotch during the early morning, she applied the fingers of both of her hands to a smooth loosening of the drawstrings that maintained its position and a brisk downward peel of its fabric along his legs.

With the exposure of Malys’ erection came her first stutter in minutes. A split second after the sex-reddened log of pale, blood-vessel-riddled flesh flopped out into contact with its owner’s thigh, Relia found her invisible line of sight tipped down towards its length and her nostrils ignited by the scent of sweat and semen that emanated from its flesh.

Where her instincts might’ve seen her reduced to a drooling stupor, Relia’s conviction drove her onward. For a third time since her diving into contact with her son’s frame, she transitioned from observing Malys to reorganizing herself relative to him. At last abandoning her position ahead of him, she slipped backwards from her position directly ahead of him to one propped up on bent knees near the center-point of his mattress. Informed as to the most comfortable spots atop his bed space by the countless nights she had spent sprawled out atop it, her arrival here saw her inch and scoot until the softness that pushed up against her knees felt perfect.

Upon locating the spot that she desired, she descended into contact with it. First rotating her knee-planted frame to turn her back towards Malys, she afterwards laid herself down lengthwise across the mattress. Skull set only inches away from Malys’ feet and legs outstretched towards the foot of the bed, she ‘purposed’ her position for a gesture. One at a time, she raised both of her hands above her face and pointed their index fingers towards her mouth. 

Then, she spoke; warmly, airily, and as though the words she had prepared were completely appropriate for a mother to utter towards their child.

“Since Mommy’s too useless to help you with regular things, I want you to be able to continue using her meat to keep yourself relieved like usual.” she started. “No matter who suggests otherwise or how much time we have to spend apart, this will always be  **my** responsibility and no one else’s—the one thing a hopeless, helpless mother is good for.”

“I know you don’t see me that way, but Mommy also knows that you’ll do anything to make her happy. So please…”

Slovenly and shameless, Relia parted her lips and allowed the meaty flank of tongue flesh contained within her mouth to sprawl out from its confines. Pressured by gravity and drenched in saliva, its exposure coincided with the drainage of thin rivulets of saliva down across the top half of her face and the elongation of spittle pillars between the organ and the roof of her mouth.

Though displayed only for a moment, her presentation succeeded in drawing Malys’ attention straight at her face. With it, she finished speaking as quickly as endearingly as she could.

“Fuck Mommy’s sloppy facepussy as much as you want ♥. A caring boy like you deserves to pleasure themselves with their mother’s holes as much as they like ♥.”

Prompted, Malys rose. The same ambivalence that had plagued him from the very first day that his mother had presented her ‘purpose’ to him kept the beginnings of ingress sluggish; even now, his core remained that of a boy unwilling to enable his sole remaining parent’s self-degradation.

On his knees, learned behavior manipulated him. Strung along by more than two years of his mother’s prompting, he cleared his mind of indecision by reminding himself of the ‘happiness’ that Relia displayed each and every time he used her in a way that reinforced her beliefs. Too young—and to a point, smitten—to deny instructions ingrained into him by the woman he had known longer than any other, he waddled up to a position just above the peak of her skull with a nervous smile on his face. Nodding where Relia could see him, he stepped forward to plant his left foot flat just below her left earlobe, then used its depression against the mattress to push his frame into a low squat centered directly above her face.

Here, a sexual prowess ill-suited to his 5-year-old appearance drew the rest of his frame into concert with his legs. First stabbing his left hand down into an insufficient bracing of the left side of Relia’s neck, he complimented its tightening with an outstretching of his right into a supportive depression against the covered meat of her right breast. Subsequently, he leveraged both supports simultaneously to hook his crotch outwards, and at the same time dig the tips of his right foot’s toes into the mattress space just behind him.

Finally, he plunged. Stifling a boyish squeak as the reddened bloat of his glans was smashed between the saliva-greased warmth of his mother’s lips, he slammed his crotch back inward along the curved path he had retreated across to plunge several inches of his near-fully-erect shaft into her mouth. Accustomed to the gooey pressure that consumed him and how best to go about managing it, he deepened his right hand’s depression into the inviting meat of her right breast and depressed his left thumb against Relia’s windpipe to keep the pleasure impressed against his erection from debilitating him.

Practiced even in this, his initial thrust bled into numerous others. Sharp and weighted, he repeatedly ploughed his crotch downward and inward to dig additional inches of his girth into the phallus-wringing puffiness of Relia’s throat, and before long, the meaty constriction of her esophagus. Ruthless in his progression, he reproduced the slanted depressions as followed by the slightest of outward retractions until every inch of his cutely-obscene flesh pipe was depressed into his mother’s face.

Informed of his ‘success’ by the compression of his testicles against her nostrils and the consumption of his shaft within a tube of mucus-smeared flesh bloated from overuse, he met this instance with a second steeling of his psyche.

Reeling his eyes in from their roll toward the peaks of their sockets, he shook his head, and finally dipped his gaze downward to speak at Relia’s stomach.

“I-I’m going to start now, mother. Please try to hold still!”

Comfortable with her position as a sleeve of flesh with her son, Relia did not utter a word in response to these words.

She did, however, find it within herself to produce a short wave toward the door of his bedroom. 

-

**FROM BIRTH**

Experience had taught Malys that selfishness and brutality were his foremost tools with regards to his mother’s holes. The more of these qualities he managed to inject into his use of her frame was the wider her smiles appeared after the fact. Separately, maximizing their application made the satisfaction that he derived from his efforts much more draining and impactful. As these were the primary goals that he sought to achieve whilst using her for his relief, his youthful mind typically saw no issue with shaping his ministrations to display the qualities at their utmost.

Spurred on by Relia’s suggestions of worthlessness and insufficiency, Malys structured his morning time facefucking session just so. Beginning with the first thrust he produced from his initial hilt down Relia’s throat, the manner in which he stabbed his meat through the constrictive warmth of her gullet projected indifference as to her condition and a desperate need to achieve an orgasm sooner rather than later. 

In this, the years that he had spent fucking his mother were invaluable. Whereas a less depraved child might’ve succumbed to a shivering orgasm upon sinking their 10 inch erection into a pipe of bloated esophagus flesh whose peristalsis smothered the finger-thick blood vessels layered atop one another about said shaft’s exterior, Malys thrived in it. After enduring the orifice’s latest embrace of his sweaty breeding instrument, he effortlessly hooked 3 inches of its length back through the orifice’s grasp. Right as these inches were freed from her gullet’s compression (beginning at the mess of phallus-veins and girth at his shaft’s root and extending 3 inches upwards), he produced a second thoughtless skewering of his groin to plunge the entirety of his mast back where it belonged. Again subjected to the hole’s humid constriction, his doing so drew his eyes into an orgasmic slant towards one another and slackened his jaw with euphoria; expected ‘costs’ paid in recompense for an impactful gutting of his mother’s second cunt.

Firm in his purpose, the completion of this thrust still succeeded in realigning his focus from the correction of his pleasure-warped facial features to the reproduction of his stroke as backed by a considerable fraction of his body weight. No sooner did a sodden *PLAP!* of his sweat-glazed crotch signal its completion did his hips and groin begin working unison to retract and depress his member from Relia’s throatcunt with the same brutish force he had used to stuff the hole to begin with. 

Per depression, the engulfment of his cockflesh into a heavy abyss of quivering esophagus flesh drew progressively milder grimaces of pleasure across his face, and eventually failed to tax his mouth into anything more significant than an occasional gritting of his teeth. Per retraction, the reflexive discharges of milky throatslop spewed from the corners of Relia’s mouth against his crotch and testicles served only to accelerate his next descent into her gullet’s embrace. Shortly, the passage of several short seconds of thrusting saw the youth transition from a sluggish hilt into Relia’s mouth into a feral fit of masturbation with its flesh.

  
  


Being 5 and 3/4 th ’s, Malys’ response to the stimulation that he acquired from goring his mother’s throat—and for that matter, his willingness to subject himself to it—was more impressive than it was unbecoming. Throughout his downward-angled plunges, the sex-reddened meat of his glans was depressed through a congealed tract of flesh comparable to a vaginal canal fattened by lust. Whilst its underside was impressed along the tube’s ‘ceiling’ with enough force to keep its bloated rigidity from completely consuming it, its underside squeezed down on the top half of his length such that the writhing veins that surrounded the mountainous bisecting ridge of his urethra were denied space to wriggle and squirm lest they be pleasured further by the scalding flesh that beared down on them. 

Malys endured this stimulation not once, but for every thrust that he produced. Save stifled groans of pleasure and the occasional huff of exertion, he did so without significant exclamation as well. Whilst two different forms of stimulation milked the meat of his erection per stroke and denied its dimensions the oppressive destruction that they were accustomed to inflicting, his focus remained on his goal: the selfish abuse of his mother’s throat.

Further, these were not the only forms of stimulation that he endured. Upon completion of a given thrust, Malys reeled his crotch outwards and upwards at a breakneck pace to keep his thrusting chain moving at the speed that he preferred. In doing so, he dragged his member back through the pressurized confines of Relia’s throat and esophagus with enough vehemence to coax heady regurgitations of mucus-laden throatslop out through the tube along with it. These birthed from the constant secretion of mucus from her esophagus’ depths and reflexes that Relia was incapable of controlling, the brief retractions that he produced quickly began to coincided with muted splatters of the substance against his crotch and balls, and to a greater extent, garbled gurgles from Relia herself. Significant only throughout the brief instances that separated their outflow from the guttural *SPLRSH*(s) created each time Malys slammed his crotch back up against Relia’s face, discerning these noises as different from any of the others that seeped from her skull became an effort not worth pursuing.

In short, Malys was denied respite. Whether driving himself inward or wrenching himself outwards, stimulation from a number of sources was funneled into one of his cock, crotch, or ears. Validation for a premature orgasm dogged him for every cycle that he completed, and his continual denial of the sensation continually packed fresh dollops of semen into the impossible reservoir stockpiled within his balls.

Yet he persisted. No matter how these sensations varied their assault on his psyche, he did not miss even a single beat within the thrusting metronome that he had established. Over time, the only ‘change’ his ministrations endured was a steady increase in pace and depth.

Even Relia—the recipient of a regular fattening of her neck with cockmeat and a stinging stimulation conducted from her throat down to her uterus—found herself unable to imagine a better effort from the boy. 

Yet again, her willingness to present herself as a hopeless parent had resulted in her son exceeding all of her expectations. Mere minutes into his masturbation with her face, rivulets of dense throat-goo had glued her closed-eyes shut, and a pleasant high composed of oxygen-deprivation and sexual discomfort had begun warming the core of her mind. When she could be bothered to attempt breathing, each breath she took in became a short-lived snort of musk-infused air drawn in around Malys’ testicles. Best of all, every second that he committed to these thrusts was a second that his frame would spend at a position where the woman she had left at the mouth of his door could see him. Second only to the satisfaction that she reaped from having her face used as a flesh-sleeve by her son, this knowledge kept twinges of bliss rippling through her psyche near constantly.

No matter the face Malys wore as he worked, the shape of his ministrations and their abject brutality were guaranteed to convey his dedication to her. If viewed directly after the sight of her seeking comfort in his coddling and effectively demanding that he use her as a set of holes that would never leave his side, only a single conclusion could be drawn:

In a contest for Malys’ affections, Relia Reslit maintained an advantage built upon several years of effort.

Well aware of this, Relia went out of her way to intensify the sight however she could. Though she did not need to, she manipulated her vocal cords to compliment the volume of every glutted *GLRUSH* produced as Malys shovelled his cockmeat through her esophagus with a muffled squeal. Despite her circumstance seeming part-and-parcel with debilitation, she eventually reached down along her frame with both of her hands to drag the lower hem of her night dress up from its dangle near her ankles into a bunching up at her midsection. This done, she spread her legs, and soon afterwards exaggerated her musculature’s response to an orgasmic injection of pleasure into her cunt by pressing her exposed crotch outwards. Executed right as a weighted splutter of heavy cuntsyrup burst from her folds, she removed all ‘mystery’ as to the severity of the pleasure that she was enjoying with a single perverse gesture.

Evidently, Relia could coax her son into grinding his cock through the depths of her esophagus heavily enough to reduce her to a state of squealing orgasm over and over again—this with only her words and position as validation.

Such was the message sent by her additions, and to a greater extent, her facefucking as a whole.

After applying further visceral appeal to her son’s ministrations, Relia turned her attention towards observation and musing. In the same way that her son intended to properly apply himself to the skewering of her face, so too did she intend on making the event as satisfying as possible for him. 

For her, accomplishing this required both patience and planning—two things that her mind was incapable of managing in complete silence.

_ “That’s right, sweetie. Make Mommy’s face a disgusting mess of throatslop so you can get off properly  _ _ ♥ _ _. I can tell that you still have plenty of energy even after spending so much time with Pramani, so it’s only right that I make sure you expend all of it.” _ she mused.

_ “You understand, don’t you? Mommy’s the only one that can drain you of that stinking baby boy sludge you make so much of. Her throatpussy is the only one good enough to squeeze out all of it, so you have to save your very best effort for her.” _

_ “Just a little bit more. Bruise my neck like a leaking cunt for a little while longer and you’ll have just enough cockjuice built up for me to do something about. You want Mommy to feel like she’s special, don’t you? You want her to feel happy and useful as a parent instead of the clumsy ditz she presents herself to be, right?” _

_ “Show her, then. Show her how much you need to drain your balls inside of her, and while you’re at it, show your _ **_big sister_ ** _ , too  _ _ ♥ _ _. Show us both exactly how much more you love me compared to everyone else  _ _ ♥ _ _...” _

Amidst her musing, the continued intensification of Malys’ thrusts brought about an abrupt shift in pattern for his ministrations. Likely as a result of fatigue finally worming its way into his frame—this as opposed to him somehow hearing the words that his mother thought towards him—the meagre already-length of his thrusts was drawn shorter, and the hook-shaped pummeling of his crotch against Relia’s face took on more excavatory qualities. 

Try as he might to function beyond his years indefinitely, the desires of his frame eventually took their toll on him. In defiance of his intent, his left foot dug its toes deeper into the mattress to sharpen the angle of his thrusts, and his left hand tightened its juvenile compression of Relia’s cock-fattened neck in search of more pressure and stimulation for his cock. Shortly afterwards, the musculature of his right foot became more rigid, and his right hand’s kneading of Relia’s leaking breast flesh became a motionless depression of his palm and fingers into the wealth of meat contained within it.

Beyond this point, Malys degenerated. With shortened thrusts and tighter braces, he selfishly pounded his crotch in against Relia’s features whilst dragging hardly an inch of his shaft from her writhing gullet per stroke. Whereas his initial thrusting pattern delivered his member through a dead-on hook into his mother’s gullet, the pattern that he slipped into peppered their delivery with an occasional bias to the right and or left of her gullet. Only the weight of his thrusts—an invasive fraction of his body mass—went unchanged by the event; regardless of their slant, each stamp of his crotch induced the same sloppy *SPLATS* to be expected of slop-mired flesh colliding with feminine facial features.

Soon enough, however, his frame failed completely. Whilst delivering a thrust no different from any of the others that had come before it, his left leg fell limp, and the full weight of his lower body was applied to his cock’s hilting into Relia’s esophagus.

With this, Malys lost a great deal of control. Rendered starry-eyed by his cock’s ingress through yet another pocket of phallus-scalding throatflesh, he immediately fell forward far enough to ‘replace’ the support lost from his left foot with his crotch. Spared chest-to-chest direct contact with Relia only by virtue of his right foot’s persistence (albeit barely), this event dragged both his posture and visage into congruence with what was ‘appropriate’ for a little boy consumed by sexual pleasure.

Motionless and euphoric, he accomplished little more than the projection of an addled smile throughout the seconds that followed.

What time that Malys spent quagmire by pleasure was time that Relia spent enduring a mixture of concentrated strain and biological provocation. Having training herself to derive sexual pleasure from the stuffing of her esophagus, feeling the full weight of her son’s frame press his pulsing shaft into the depths of her digestive tract was tantamount to enduring a single, drawn out orgasm. Worse still, his inability to provide her with even a second of respite from his cock pressured what remained of her human reflexes into the only defense mechanism that remained available to them.

Though she did not groan, squirm, or protest with her hands, Relia’s innards expressed their distress by vomiting. Compressed by her esophagus’ partial occupation by cockflesh, a wealth of chunked stomach contents were squeezed up into muted splatters out from her lips and nostrils by a vicious sequence of contractions beginning within her stomach. Some thick enough to cake the underside of Malys’ testicles and others runny enough to add further insult to the mucus-smattered neckline of her nightdress in the form of putrid stains, no part of their release lacked the unsightliness inherent to regurgitation.

Separately, as each discharge was produced amidst the funneling of a muffled *BLORP* or *GLRSH* from Relia’s skull and a pressurized streaking of porridge-dense sick across her face, each one was by proxy loaded with a severity of noise and stimuli that a more conscientious male might’ve understood as signage to withdraw themselves lest their muse suffocate.

Much too far gone to perform as his circumstance demanded, the task of responding to her body’s pleas was shifted from Malys to Relia. After a short stint of bewilderment and disgust in her body’s display of weakness, her mind adjusted to her circumstance as it would’ve any other.

Per this adjustment, her vomiting was framed as ideal. Smiling internally whilst raising her hands up into contact with Malys’ hips, she wasted no time in pulling her 5-year-old’s crotch out of contact with her face one puke-soaked inch of phallus flesh at a time. Monstrous in her efficiency and undaunted by the mess she uncorked from her esophagus as she went, the plopping of his glans from between her lips was followed by a reversal that only she could have managed.

Lips pursed, Relia rolled Malys’ body off to the left of her position atop the mattress. Snapping upright moments later, she reapplied her palms against his hips and again purposed the disparity between their sizes to drag his frame to a position directly below her own.

Next, she descended. Beginning with a depression of her skull down to a height that left her lips directly above the filth-drenched tip of Malys cock, she aligned herself into a kneeling position that granted her ‘ideal’ access to both his erection and lower body.

With her newfound control over proceedings, Relia swiftly assumed all responsibility for pleasuring her son. 

All-too-aware of what this would require of her, she parted her lips just slightly and tipped her head downwards. As soon as she did so, the remnants of the slurried stomach contents she had regurgitated and the excess throat-slop drawn up through her esophagus throughout her retraction of Malys’ cock tumbled out of her mouth in the form of a thumb-width mudslide of ever-elongating mess. Throughout the drainage of her oral cavity, she occasionally tipped her skull from left to right to see the food-based mire drizzled out across the filth-soaked meat of her son’s erection equivalently. Like this, the emptying of her mouth left every inch of pale cockflesh that he had to offer healthily drenched in the unique ‘lubrication’ that it had churned up within her gullet.

Following its application, Relia made use of it. Producing yet another display of disgusting indifference, she raised both of her hands up into a firm envelopment of Malys’ glans. Set, she threaded their fingers in between one another to trap the vomit-soaked knob within a sleeve of smooth feminine palms and glutted lubrication. Once certain of its tightness, she engaged both her wrists and forearms in a furious pumping of its embrace up and down along a stretch of phallus inches measuring from the tip of his glans down to the midsection of his cock.

Indifferent to the messes smeared to her fingers in the process and the grotesque squelching noises induced from the speed of her metronome, her execution of the slop-gunked handjob did not affect her demeanor in the slightest. Still smiling mildly—albeit now with streaks of vomit and mucus splattered across her closed-eyed visage—she furiously depressed and elevated her palm-sleeve along nearly half of Malys’ erection whilst applying a pressure that nearly put her esophagus to shame—this without once displaying even a hint of disgust.

When the initial seconds of her stroking at last bled into a pumping chain befitting her status, the only emotion visible on her face was matronly contentment.

Doubting the genuity of the emotion was impossible as well. Despite vomiting all over herself not minutes prior, Relia still found it within herself to ensure that Malys was verbally rewarded for his efforts.

“Ara ara, you really do care for Mommy, don’t you, Malys? You knew I was feeling sad, so you made sure that I’d make a  **disgusting mess** of myself just so that I could do something like this for you. I can only stroke and squeeze your cock like this because you dragged so much gooey slop out of me~.” speaking out amidst the grotesque *SPLORTS* and *SCLHRKS* induced by her palms’ streaking of filth along the girth of Malys’ cock, Relia again simplified her behavior as ‘rewards’ reaped from her son’s kindness. “I feel very special now  ♥ . The only thing that’s missing is your seed. If I don’t milk out every stinking drop, I still can’t say that I served my purpose today.”

“It’s alright, though  ♥ . Mommy knows how tired you must be, so just let her handle the rest. All you need to do is be a good boy and let her drain everything out…”

“Like this  ♥ .”

Without warning, Relia supplemented her milking of Malys’ length with an unnecessary injection of variance. Spurred on by her perverse hunger for her child’s affection, she elongated the latest depression of her palm sleeve past the slovenly midsection of his crotch all the way down to his shaft’s sludge-coated root. Straight after her fingers were floored into contact with the soupy mess of slime and crotch flesh, she peeled them out of contact with one another so as to abandon her compression of his mast entirely.

A square depression of her lips along his cock followed immediately afterwards. With an energy that implied utter detachment from the state of his cock, she happily floored her lips from the nose of Malys’ glans down to a sickening *SPLORT* against the root of his cock.

Floored, she exchanged her stroking metronome for one focused on a short-ranged scrubbing of Malys’ erection with her esophagus. From a start position that fattened her the bulbous tube with the entirety of his erection, she peeled her slop-mired lips back up along the spire by only a pair of inches. At her new peak, she stabbed her skull downwards for a second time to renew both the hilting of his member down her throat and the depression of her cheeks into the mixture of messes spread out across his crotch.

From this single oscillation was birthed a blinding chain of motions just like them. Whereas Relia  _ could  _ have reintroduced Malys to the confines of her esophagus gently, she instead chose to assault his cockflesh with a pumping of her gullet that might remind him of his own aborted metronome. Completely content with the smearing of regurgitated slurry back along her esophagus lining (and to a greater extent, the exterior of her cheeks), she hurriedly stabbed her skull up and down along her chosen stretch of inches such that the majority of his cock was kept compressed within her esophagus at all times.

She did not use her pace as an excuse to simplify the links in this chain, either. Whilst dragging her skull upwards, she briefly intensified the pressure that her lips and digestive tract applied to the exterior of his member so as to create a sight akin to a vacuum’s tugging at her flesh (the flesh of her lips). The moment she arrived at the stopping point of a given ascent, she alleviated her pressurized suckling and allowed her lips to pop back up to parity with the position of her mouth. If slight and barely discernible, these applications of pressure served a dual purpose in the garroting of the blood vessels that extended up from the base of his cock, and the creation of another titillating visual for Malys to enjoy when and if he decided to grace her efforts with observation.

Relia being Relia, she did not wait for Malys for long. After several seconds of complimenting these lip-stretching ascents with simple downward spikes of her skull, the lust that warmed her uterus demanded that she force her son into a more blatant appreciation of her throating. 

Fundamentally incapable of acting against Malys’ best interest, the method that she selected to accomplish this prioritized his pleasure over both effectiveness and impact. Beginning with one especially-deep skewer of her lips down to the base of his shaft, Relia pressed her tongue far enough out of her mouth to expose its flesh amidst the thin layer of puke that remained atop his crotch. Following its presentation, she dragged its mass through a clockwise swirl around the entirety of his cockroot’s girth before slipping into another suction-backed retraction of her skull. For each downward plunge that she produced past this point (i.e throughout her throating metronome), the speed at which she completed a single rotation was increased incrementally, and the amount of tongue-flesh that she applied elongated until it appeared as though the full length of the organ was applied to the task (though it wasn’t. It’s not actually possible—just like a lot of the things I try to fucking talk my way through).

Within a half dozen rotations, Relia’s swirls reaped the result that she intended for them. As if woken from the dead, Malys rose up into a dedicated observation of her sucking metronome.

Unbeknownst to her, though, the swirls themselves were only part of the impetus for this outcome.

Upon surging up into an abbreviated seated position, Malys’ desire for escape matched his desire for release. Overcome by his mother’s efforts, his waning mental resources were consumed in adherence to two ideas: Relia’s happiness, and the mitigation of the stimulation being squeezed and scrubbed into the meat of his cock. In a blind attempt at accommodating the incompatibility of these ideas, he remained on his back throughout the majority of her throating in hopes that his mother might tire before his tolerance for stimulation failed him.

When this did not occur after several painstaking minutes, the circular grind of his mother’s tastebuds around the root of his cock prioritized ‘flight’ over further attempts at ‘fighting’ within his mind. Suddenly committed to escaping Relia’s ministrations one way or another, his move up to a seated position was intended as a means of determining the best way of going about this.

Far too frantic to have engaged in any forethought beforehand, the sight that he exposed himself to in doing so came as a gutting surprise to Malys’ psyche. In sequence, he laid eyes on the perverse elongation of his mother’s lips, the swirling of her tongue, and the innumerable streaks of slop strewn out across her features—all without any idea as to what these things might’ve looked like beforehand.

As combined with Relia’s perpetual throating, these sights proved stimulating enough to rob him of all recourse. Less than 10 seconds after observing them at their utmost, his eyes slanted in towards one another, and his torso fell backwards to replant his back along the mattress space behind him. 

Immediately afterwards, he turned himself over to his mother’s efforts. With a second flattening of his left foot into the mattress and a slanting of his lower body’s mass into the tips of his toes, he granted himself just enough leeway to drill his crotch upwards to meet Relia’s plunges in kind. Shortly afterwards, he pressed his left hand down into contact with the black hair atop her head and applied as much downward pressure against her skull as his tiny palm could muster.

Believing himself to have done his utmost with regard to preparation, he engaged in a stint of short, desperation-tinged skewers of his member up into the convulsing depths of his mother’s esophagus for as long as he could. Inexplicably unbothered by the fact that each hilt he managed mashed her face into the sordid state of his crotch , he thoughtlessly reeled his glans through in and out from a pleasurable slotting into an unbearably-congested pocket of esophagus flesh and nuzzled his shaft’s trunk through the vomit-smeared stretches of tubing above it until the pressure mounting within the root of his crotch exploded.

For a split second, the relief that washed over him as wadded cock juice began snaking its way through his urethra validated all of the energy and willpower he had exerted in fighting to ‘use’ his mother to the extent that he had. Accentuated by the warmth of a powerful orgasm and the satisfaction of vacation fundamental to the male orgasm, its onset saw everything unconcerned with his release filtered from his mind as water through a strainer.

In this, the tiny emperor was naïve. By allowing the specifics of his surroundings to slip out of his mind’s focus, he left himself vulnerable to their contents...

In particular, he neglected to consider the intent of the woman responsible for his release in the first place.

The moment that Malys’ first strand of semen exploded out towards the lower reaches of her esophagus, Relia took advantage of her son’s oversight to reassert her position in their coupling for a second time. 

First and foremost, she did so in a manner that only she could enjoy.

“Awahhh~ It’s just as heavy and pasty as it always is  ♥ . However much he blasted into Pramani, he still managed to keep more than enough of his backed up cum for me.” she mused. “You’re so thoughtful, Malys … ♥ ”

“So thoughtful that I’m going to suck everything out of you whether you like it or not…”

Whilst these utterances reverberated through her mind, Relia forced her bleary-eyed child to recall her preference for feeding herself. Against the weight of Malys’ thrust and the pressure imposed against her skull, she stabbed her lips downwards with enough force to dump his lower back against the mattress beneath them. Despite goring his cock’s depression deeper into her esophagus by an additional inch—this resulting in the steady outflow of pungent semen billowing from the nose of Malys’ glans being pushed even closer to her stomach—the completion of her plunge did not see her return to stillness. Right as her lips were pressed flat against his crotch, she raised both of her palms up into contact with his hips, then drew the limbs in towards one another at the midpoint of his lower abdominals.

Behind their placement, she pressed them downwards against the region. Forced by the outflow of balmy cockjuice upchucked by his member to continually swallow against the meat of his cock at the same time, she nevertheless managed to generate enough force with her hands to deny Malys the ability to move away from her siphoning of his member.

Certain in her ability to keep her son where she desired him to be, she transitioned from these efforts into a concentrated draining of his mast.

Fairly stated, concentration was the very least that Malys’ orgasm deserved. Initiated with an explosion of semen discolored with notable hints of yellow and textured in mimicry of a molten-paste’s interpretation of melted cheese, the semen discharged from his crotch owned a quality that put the average male orgasm to shame. Contained within the first sludgy thread that jetted out towards Relia’s stomach was a volume of nut sufficient for the formation of a solid blockage between the opposing halves of her esophagus. Stubborn in its adhesion to the lining of her gullet, the impact of Malys’ second thread of seed was required to coax its contents into a haggard roll down towards the congealed tube’s end point.

Each in their own way, the flourishes of cockjuice that erupted from his glans beyond this point epitomized this stubbornness. Sometimes too fat and wadded for a proper leap from his urethra—this resulting in the wadding of a massive blurt of wriggling sperm cells directly ahead of his glans—and sometimes thinned by an especially arduous ascent through his urethra, not one of the congested outbursts was delivered into Relia’s gullet cleanly. Even when the caking of her esophagus with the substance prompted her to begin swallowing down their contents in their entirety, the stains and smears left in their wake persisted as testament to what they had accomplished.

Described shortly, the steaming tadpole sludge was in most every way contrary to the boy responsible for producing it; vile and masculine whilst its producer remained boyish and vulnerable.

As the first woman to have attempted chugging the substance and the one who had birthed its source, the nature of Malys’ orgasm did not come as a surprise to Relia. Prepared from the outset of his release for the formation of warm blockages within her depths and the perpetual wriggle of portly sperm cells against the lining of her esophagus and stomach, she managed both events with the same monstrous grace she had maintained throughout the majority of her facefucking…

Outwardly, of course.

Inwardly, Relia met the continual ring of revolting * **GLRPS** * through her eardrums and the steady increase in the warm weight packed within her stomach as she always did:

Perversely, and with purpose.

“Suteki~ I can feel his sperm squirming inside my stomach  ♥ . It’s almost certainly because Malys saved so much for me, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d think that his sperm loved me enough to want to impregnate my stomach.” she thought to herself, inner voice calm in its adulation of her son’s semen. “Perhaps I ought not have taken it directly into my stomach without chewing it first, though? I’d have surely spilt some if I tried, but my stomach might just end up bloating slightly instead.”

  
  


“…Or perhaps not. Malys’ wiggling has started to slow down, so he’s probably going to run out of dickjuice to feed me sooner rather than later. If that turns out to be the case, I’ll have plenty of time for chewing later.”

“Right now, my only priority should be making sure I suck everything out of him  **right where she can see** …”

Timing herself down to the very last second of Malys’ release, Relia ceased musing about her competition the moment she felt what was presumably his final blurt of semen trickle down past the midpoint of her esophagus. 

In response, she made her siphoning of Malys’ member even more oppressive. Despite being aware of the fact that he was unlikely to recall the stimulation that she was imposing, the ‘end’ of his release saw her beginning driving her lips up along his breeding-cudgel towards its peak.

As she rose, she treated his erection as a straw. Maintaining all of the pressure she had used to drain his shaft throughout her throating of its meat, she complimented the sensation with constant suction concentrated at the midpoint of his glans.

Through this, she elongated her son’s orgasm by several additional seconds. Beset by evacuative pressure unique to the confines of Relia’s mouth, globs of semen pinched throughout Malys’ urethra were siphoned from their respective choke points up through a sluggish ascent towards the tip of his cock. Assisted in their progression by the projection of orgasmic convulsions through the phallus flesh surrounding his urethra, the ascent of Relia’s lips ultimately coincided with a quiet resumption of the chained discharges that had fed her stomach just short of a pleasant bloat with the substance.

Not surprisingly, the resumption of these discharges was accompanied by a resumption of noises and stimulation inherent to them. Amidst her ascent, Relia paused a number of times in adherence to guttural *PLORTS* induced as backed up semen was drawn out into collisions against the face of her tongue and the spread of her oral cavity. Presuming their production to mean that her lips had arrived atop an especially semen-choked fraction of Malys’ urethra, she scrubbed her lips up and down the cockflesh immediately above and below these points to ensure that every drop of semen responsible for the noise’s projection was drawn into her mouth.

Though mechanical and satisfying for her, the fishing of semen wads through his urethra and the concentrated suckling of their dregs out behind them was to Malys a test of his capacity for suffering. Left within a half-conscious state by the stinging bliss of his orgasm, Relia’s application of further suction to his still-erect member gored stakes of sensation through his crotch to the extent that his musculature was drawn into a defensive squirm in protest of their presence. Mitigated all the same by the downward force generated by her palms and the weight of her skull, bearing the sensation for as long as it persisted again became his only means of survival.

Thus, he persevered. With the very last spurts of strength his frame could muster, he attached his psyche to an image of his mother’s smiling face conjured for the sole purpose of reminding him who it was he was suffering for. 

Thanks to the temporary exhaustion that had washed over his frame, doing so allowed him to persist through the remainder of Relia’s suckling without passing out. His frame still squirmed whenever she saw fit to stop her ascent and thread additional blurts of semen out into the undoubtedly smear-laden confines of her mouth, and his throat still pushed the occasional seething groan into the air as she went.

But he persisted. When finally a sloppily-drenched * **PLUPPP-PAH!** * signalled Relia popping her lips off of the tip of his member alongside his final dollop of semen, his mind remained conscious enough to both hear the event and feel its aftermath.

At long last, the full length of his shaft was freed from the stifling phallus-siphon hidden behind his mother’s lips. Almost in complete disbelief as to the arrival of her suckling’s end, juvenile curiosity hoisted his torso upright in search of visual confirmation for the event.

Much to his surprise, confirmation was precisely what he found. Ahead of him, Malys found his mother’s lips pursed directly atop the nose of his shaft. Left side adorned by a single wire of jet-black pubic hair and right decorated with a messy assortment of minuscule semen dollops, their state seemed to him as ‘appropriate’ relative to what they had been used for.

The state of Relia’s cheeks were the same. Both mildly fattened in accommodation of the volume of semen she had threaded out of him—this in spite of the rest of her face appearing as usual—thorough ‘rightness’ was the only thing that his eyes could take away from her visage.

Soon, however, definitive proof of his mother’s experience was handed down to him. In recognition of her son’s gaze, Relia abruptly slipped into swishing and swirling the reproductive peat collected within her mouth around the scope of her oral cavity as a rancid mouthwash. Noisy and shameless, she blended and chewed the volume she had captured until the tongue-depressing basin was infused with enough of her saliva to drink in comfort. Then, without a hint of apprehension, she began to swallow. One weighted *GLURP ♥ * at a time, she squeezed fractions of her mouth’s payload down her throat and through her esophagus until the interior of her mouth was freed from the writhing mess of nut that had consumed it. 

On completion of the effort, she presented her thoughts on the subject with squealed speech.

“とても美味しかったですわああ ♥♥ (Soooo tasty  ♥♥ )! You gave me so much greasy babyjuice, Malys—thank you for letting Mommy milk it all out for you ~!” whereas her tone suggested that her efforts had not cost her frame anything significant, the sudden drainage of off-white sludge from her right nostrils (this a likely consequence of her sudden attempt at speech after consuming such a massive volume of semen) conveyed to Malys exactly how taxing her task had been.

All the same, his focus remained on the happiness within her voice.

“It feels so nice to be useful to you—I want to feel like this forever.” she continued, nasally. “You’ll let me, won’t you? Even if you do have to marry someone else, you’ll always let Mommy serve a purpose to you…”

“Because you love her, don’t you?”

Delirious and indifferent, Malys’ heart answered on behalf of his better judgement. As any child might’ve when pressed by their parent, he nodded—innocently and without regret.

In turn, the smile that Relia beamed down at him grew warmer. Surrounded by semen and sexual filth, it spread into projection of something that he had yet to see in the smiles of other women.

Something so comforting that a part of him shuddered in fear of it.

  
  


  
  
  



End file.
